Till death do us part
by lilycup
Summary: This is a story of Hector and Andromache, and how they met and fell in love. A story of how their lives were shattered by a war of two nations. Also includes important pairings and characters that play a role in the end of Troy. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my very first fanfic, of any kind, so please be gentle ;) Reviews are welcome, if you like this so far then please review and if you don't like it then please review with ideas on how I could improve :)

I would like to write this up until the fall of Troy but at the moment I don't have past the second chapter in my head, but I will see how it goes. Also, I know the title of this story isn't great but I didn't know what to call it.

-----

Butterflies fluttered nervously in Princess Andromache's stomach. As time passed by they grew more and more agitated. She rubbed her stomach in gentle motions in hopes of calming her nerves.

Finally the day had come when Andromache would meet her betrothed: Prince Hector. Nothing could prepare her for this meeting, not even her mother's soothing words. In a few days Andromache would be leaving her home, Thebe, and sailing away to Troy with Prince Hector.

Of course Andromache had protested against the marriage but nothing had changed her father's mind. She knew, as well as the rest of her family, that she could prove to be the key in creating a strong and powerful ally for the weak Thebe.

As soon as Andromache had been told of her pending marriage to Prince Hector, stories of him suddenly began to swarm around her. The thing she heard most was that he was a Tamer of Horses.

Prince Hector was well renowned for the ability to tame even the worst of horses and this scared Andromache. Andromache feared that Hector would be a strict and brutish warrior who broke horses down to his will; she feared he would break her.

Andromache now sat on her grey coloured stallion, called Alexandros. He was a beautiful horse and had been a present to her on her fourteenth birthday, only five years ago, from her father. Andromache was not able to take Alexandros with her to Troy and so she wished to savor every moment she had with him.

It was frowned upon for a woman or maiden to leave the citadel without a male escort, but Andromache often rode alone in secret, like now. She knew Hector would be arriving at the palace today, but she didn't expect him to arrive until later that day.

Still the thought of being married to a man she had never met seemed absurd to her. A part of her wished to believe that it wasn't real, that this was all a bad dream, but she couldn't convince herself to believe that lie. Andromache loved her family dearly, especially her seven brothers, and she could not bear to leave them … not now … not ever. However, Andromache's marriage to Hector was inevitable.

Andromache now looked across the lake she had ridden to, which was not too far away from the palace. No one usually came here, so Andromache used it as her sanctuary, her place of thought. Being in the palace, with her mother fretting over her marriage, was unbearable and so Andromache had ridden away from the palace as soon as she could.

The water shimmered blissfully under the blazing, hot sun that was shinning its light from high above. Gigantic trees, which were spread around the lake, with green coloured leaves, swayed smoothly with the gentle wind. Birds in the trees sang cheerfully as they fed their young. Andromache sighed heavily and leaned forward to stroke Alexandros' neck. Soon this will all be left behind, thought Andromache sadly.

The sound of horses trotting suddenly crept into Andromache's ears; she gripped harder onto her reins and straightened her back when she saw who the men were.

Andromache could tell by looking at their beautiful decorated breastplates that these men were Trojans. She had not expected them to arrive so early, nor did she expect them to ride to the palace from their ships by taking this route. She thought they would sail straight to the palace docks and ride their horses from there.

One of these men, Andromache thought, will be my future husband. She caught the eye of one of the men who rode in the front; she glanced curiously at him for a moment but then turned away abruptly when a loud horn was blown.

"Step out of the way, madam!" shouted the man who had blown the horn.

Andromache was wearing a navy coloured cloak; its hood was on her head which covered her crown that revealed her status as a Princess of Thebe. She resisted the urge to pull down her hood, and instead rode off the dusty path and halted on the grass, a few yards beside the path.

Andromache bowed her head as the men passed her but she soon felt a pair of eyes on her face. She looked up slowly and saw that the man, who she had seen only moments ago, was now looking at her intently. Somehow, Andromache felt that this man was her future husband. She quickly lowered her head and waited until the men had passed and had rode out of sight, only then did Andromache ride back to the palace.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I've found some inspiration for this fic now! :) I've actually just finished the third chapter and will probably put that up soon.

Thank you for reviewing Queen Arwen, and yes there are a lot of H/A fics starting at the moment, but that's great. (I can't get enough of Hector and Andromache ) )

Also I mention Podes, Andromache's brother in this chapter because he is the only named brother of Andromache's in the Iliad, and I needed to mention one of her brothers, so I used him :) And I also couldn't find Andromache's mothers name, so I just decided to use the name Sofia.

-----

Slowly Andromache rode back to the palace, not caring how angry her parent's would undoubtedly be with her because she had not been there to welcome Prince Hector. She presumed they didn't even know that she had left the palace.

Glistening tears escaped from Andromache's eyes as she entered the stables, she hurriedly wiped the droplets away and allowed a young stable boy to help her off Alexandros. Everyone who worked at the stables knew that Andromache rode without an escort, but none of them revealed her secret as she was a kind and gentle Princess towards them all.

Andromache silently entered the entrance hall to the palace and saw her mother standing by her father, King Eetion, and her seven older brothers, some with their wife's.

The king was talking happily to two men; one of the men was Prince Hector whom Andromache had seen earlier. For the first time she was struck by his handsome appearance. He had light brown hair and chocolate coloured eyes accompanied with very light, tanned skin. As Andromache lowered her eyes to examine him more, she noticed that he had a few battle scars on his arms. She had heard that Prince Hector was twenty-six years old, but he seemed almost older, not in appearance, but how he presented himself.

The man or boy rather, beside him, was almost the complete opposite in how he presented himself. He wore a devilish grin that spread widely across his face as he listened attentively to King Eetion's stories of being arranged in marriage. The boy looked no older than seventeen and had silky, brown locks and light brown eyes. When she looked at him she was reminded of her brother Podes, he also wore a mischievous grin at times, especially after he had crept into Andromache's chambers and stolen her perfume so he could give it to a young maiden he was lusting after.

King Eetion, upon hearing Andromache cough slightly, turned to look at her. He bit his lip tightly for a moment when he saw her, and clenched more tightly onto his lips when he saw that she was wearing a cloak, which signaled that she had been out of the palace. After a moment he glided over to Andromache and ushered her over to the Trojan men.

"Prince Hector," said Eetion happily, "please allow me to introduce my daughter … Princess Andromache."

Andromache curtsied and blushed slightly; she had never felt so ridiculous. She then pulled down the hood off her head and revealed her crown. She watched with grim satisfaction as shock flashed across Hector's face.

Hector gasped slightly but quickly composed himself. Not only did he recognise Andromache, but he was also astounded by her beauty.

He had never seen a woman more beautiful than she, in his own eyes, and never would. Long, brown hair swept down her back, with gold clips pinned into her hair at the sides to keep it out of her clear blue eyes. A dark blue robe flowed down her body, accentuating her stunning curves. Hector looked up to her face once more and tried to read her expression, but she wore none. Instead he turned to read her eyes and saw heartache and bitterness glaring back at him, the latter presumably towards him. At that moment Hector only wished to withdraw the pain from within her, it tore at his heart to see such a beautiful creature in so much hidden pain.

Hector stepped forward and kissed Andromache's left hand, then without being seen by anyone other than Andromache, she saw him mouth to her: "I'm sorry."

Andromache slowly allowed her arm to fall down by her side once more and tried to ignore the odd tinkling feeling on her hand, where she had been kissed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess Andromache," said Hector, releasing a gentle smile.

"The pleasure is mine Prince Hector," said Andromache, speaking words she had been informed to say the day before in the event that Hector spoke the words he just had.

King Eetion and his wife, Queen Sofia, smiled happily. Neither one of them could have wished for a better husband for their only daughter.

"Now, please allow me to introduce my younger brother: Paris," said Hector and gestured to the boy who stood next to him.

"Princess Andromache," greeted Paris and gently kissed Andromache's right hand and smiled cheekily.

"It's an honor to meet you, Prince Paris," said Andromache and succeeded in concealing a smile.

"Andromache, would you please show the Princes to their chambers?" asked Andromache's mother, Queen Sofia.

Andromache's jaw clenched tightly, she had forgotten that it was proper for the bride to show her betrothed to his chambers. She was scared of being alone with the Princes, especially Hector. It felt like everything was passing by her too quickly, she had hardly spoken to Prince Hector, yet she would be leaving with him in a few days, never to see her family again.

"Of course, mother," said Andromache stiffly and turned to look at Hector and Paris, "please follow me."

Andromache briskly led the way out of the entrance hall and down many corridors without speaking a word; she strode ahead of the two Princes to avoid conversation with either of them.

"Were you the beautiful goddess we passed on the way to the palace?" Paris asked, and had to leap a step away from his brother to avoid being hit.

Andromache blushed heavily, she had heard of Paris' effect on women, especially on young maidens, but had not thought he would direct her charm towards her. "I don't know about being a beautiful goddess, but yes … I was the _maiden_ you passed by."

"Well then on behalf of my brother and I," said Paris, "I wish to apologise for that _imbecile_ who ordered you off the road."

Andromache laughed inwardly. "Thank you Prince Paris, but it was nothing unusual. Women and maidens are used to being ordered by other men."

Hector looked at Andromache's back, being unable to see her face as she continued to stride ahead of them. He was shocked by her boldness, but was also happily surprised by her spirited confidence as she spoke.

Paris grinned widely, growing to like Andromache more and more, and not only because of her beauty.

Andromache soon halted to a stop outside a patterned door in the guest halls. "These are you chambers, it was thought you would rather share so there are separate beds for you both."

"Thank you Princess Andromache," said Hector, smiling.

Andromache nodded and then hurried away to her own chambers.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I now plan to put up a new chapter each day; I'm just finishing the sixth chapter so I should be able to have a new chapter up every day.

Thank you for reviewing Lady Hades :) I'm glad you and Queen Arwen are enjoying this so far :)

In this chapter, and through-out the fic, peploses are mentioned. The peplos is a garment worn by women, I think around the time of Troy etc., but I could be wrong. I also mention Andromache's handmaiden, Xanthe. Xanthe is a character in Troy by Adele Geras and works as a nursemaid to Astyanax and also works in the blood room in Troy. I needed to have a handmaiden for Andromache, and so decided to use the name Xanthe, but the characters are quite different.

----

Andromache returned to her own chambers and fell down to the floor. She didn't cry, the grief within her was too much to be shown by childish tears.

How long she sat there, she didn't know. Andromache swayed her body gently, side to side and clung onto her cloak. She had always believed that you only marry a person when you loved them. Andromache had always known, however, that for a Princess to marry for love was almost impossible. As a little girl she had dreamt of what her marriage would be like, it would be the most important event in her life, other than having children.

She had seen arranged marriages develop from its early stages, and had also been fortunate to see marriage that was for love and nothing else. Andromache had noticed the vast differences; in many arranged marriages she had seen that the partners merely tolerated each other. Whereas with marriages of love, from the beginning, she had seen how they looked at one another, how they both loved no one else and that is what Andromache wished for, but believed she would never have.

The door to her chamber quietly creaked open and Andromache rushed to her feet. Her mother entered the room and silently closed the door behind her.

"Prince Hector seems like a very, nice young man, Andromache," said her mother, gently. She too remembered what it was like to have her dreams dashed when her betrothed had come to _collect her_, years ago.

Andromache said nothing; she didn't know what to say and instead went to sit on her bed.

"I know it seems hard now," continued Queen Sofia, "but it's like this for every young maiden who meets her betrothed for the first time. Don't fear Andromache, Hector will prove to be a wonderful husband to you."

"I don't wish to hear lies, mother," said Andromache, coldly. "I know how arranged marriages work, and as a Princess of Thebe it's my duty to honour my father's wishes."

Queen Sofia simply nodded and sat down beside her daughter and rubbed her back slowly. "Please do not be angry with your father, or me. We would never arrange you in a marriage that we doubted couldn't work."

"I know mother," said Andromache, sadly and hugged her mother tightly.

"I will send Xanthe in to prepare you for the welcoming feast this evening," said Queen Sofia and kissed her daughter's forehead before leaving.

Only moments after Queen Sofia had left the room, Xanthe entered. Xanthe was Andromache's favourite handmaiden and would be escorting her to Troy.

"I believe Prince Hector is quite handsome," said Xanthe and led Andromache to the dresser so she could start preparing her for the feast, "although I've heard that his brother, Prince Paris, is also a handsome Prince who thinks of you as a goddess."

Andromache laughed. "How did you hear that?"

"You were walking past your father's room," said Xanthe but then stopped for a moment, "and I happened to be preparing to leave there when I heard you pass with the Princes and listened for a moment. I'm sorry, my lady, it was none of my business."

Andromache shook her head and smiled weakly. Xanthe was a mistress of her father, the whole palace knew it, even her mother, and no one thought less of Xanthe or King Eetion, so she would often sit in there and comfort the King if need be. It was to be expected for a King, or Prince, to take on mistresses when his wife was not able to perform for him. Andromache knew that Xanthe had not liked being chosen for the task, but could not refuse and also knew that Xanthe was relieved to be leaving with her.

"It's fine Xanthe," said Andromache. "I suppose I must get used to my future husband having mistresses, which he of course will."

Xanthe nodded slightly, she knew Andromache's dreams of marrying for love as well as her own. After a moment of reflection Xanthe began to prepare Andromache for the welcoming feast.

----

"Princess Andromache is certainly an attractive Princess, don't you think Hector?" asked Paris.

Hector smiled, wishing not to reveal too much on how he thought about Andromache's striking appearance. "Yes, she is certainly pleasing to one's eye."

Paris laughed aloud and strode across their chambers to look out of the balcony. "Well I wish you the best in conquering her heart. From what we've seen of her so far, or heard … I would expect her to be a strong willed woman, which I know you like."

"Conquering her heart?" asked Hector and fidgeted nervously on his chair. "I had no intention of conquering her heart, and why should I? I will be nice to her, of course, and I will try and make her comfortable around me but love in arranged marriages never happens, not passionate love at least."

"You could prove to be mistaken," said Paris, confidently, "you've hardly spoken to Andromache and I'm sure on closer acquaintance that she could prove to be a woman worth loving."

Hector said nothing but sighed heavily. Before traveling to Thebe he had spoken for long hours to his father, mainly talking about the marriage between him and Andromache. He had listened carefully while his father spoke of how to treat Andromache when they first met and to ensure that there wasn't any uneasiness around each other as it would result in a difficult wedding night, for them both.

The wedding night had been something Hector had thought of only briefly while traveling to Thebe but after he had met Andromache, it was almost on his mind constantly. He worried that there would still be awkwardness between them when the time came for him to make her his wife, and take her from the path of maidenhood. He was also scared of having to perform as a husband to her, he had never proven to be good around women … women were his brothers expertise.

A loud knock on the door to their chambers tore Hector away from his thoughts. Paris swiftly hurried to the door and opened it widely so Hector could also look through it from where he was sat.

"My lords," greeted the man who had knocked on the door and then slowly bowed before Prince Paris and Hector. "I've come to lead you to your welcoming feast, if you would both please follow me when you're ready."

"Are you ready Hector?" Paris asked and turned to look at his brother who had suddenly turned very pale.

"Yes," said Hector slowly, stood up off his chair and followed Paris and the man to his welcoming feast.

Hector had always despised feasts, especially when they were in honour of him. He'd never liked attention being drawn to him, but he knew that as a Prince of Troy, he would always get unwanted attention.

In what seemed no time at all, Hector and Paris were being ushered into chairs at the royal table in the dinning hall of the palace. Unfortunately Paris had been sat opposite Hector, and not next to him to keep him company. Almost of all the seats were occupied except from the chair next to him on his left, he knew that this would be where Andromache would sit.

"Andromache, my dear daughter, you look wonderful," said King Eetion and kissed his daughter on both cheeks as she entered, before motioning for her to sit next to Prince Hector.

Hector looked up when he heard King Eetion speak and gasped aloud when he caught sight of Andromache, Paris noticed and smiled happily.

Andromache floated over to Hector silently and took her place next to him. Hector controlled the urge to watch her continuously, she looked so magnificently beautiful, and like a goddess she looked … a beautiful goddess.

Andromache wore a violet coloured peplos which was patterned with flowered designs. Her hair was placed high upon her head, pinned together with small, delicate clips and a few twisted curls of hair fell graciously down her back. She looked at Hector, who continued to gaze at her, and scowled. Andromache had always hated to be thought or looked at as beautiful, she didn't think she possessed any true beauty and didn't see the need for such looks by men.

"You look wonderful, Andromache," said Hector, deliberately not using the word Princess.

Andromache turned to look at him and held his gaze for a few moments, but then turned away. "Thank you, _Prince Hector_."

King Eetion stood up once more and raised his gold goblet full of red wine. "Welcome to this feast, in honour of the Princes: Hector and Paris, for arriving to Thebe so safely. Please now join me in a toast to welcoming the Princes and also to Andromache, who will soon be marrying Prince Hector."

"To the Princes of Troy and Andromache," said everyone in unison, while raising their classes and then drinking from them.

King Eetion then sat down, next to his wife, and began talking to her while he and everyone else ate, everyone else except Andromache.

So many thoughts and feelings were rushing through Andromache's head that she couldn't bare the thought of eating, so she instead toyed with her food and ignored Hector's momentary glances towards her periodically.

"Is this food not to your liking?" asked Prince Hector, well aware of why Andromache was not eating.

"_Of course it isn't_," snarled Andromache quietly, "for what other reason could I not be eating, Prince Hector."

Hector sighed and lowered his voice so only Andromache could hear him this time. "I know you don't like me and would rather stay here in Thebe than marry me but I'm afraid that isn't possible. And as it isn't possible, I propose that we at least try to get along, it will make things easier for us both."

Andromache glared at Hector incredulously; she didn't want to make things easier as she didn't want to marry him, or anyone that she didn't love. "I wish to retire to my chamber now, Prince Hector. Goodnight." With that Andromache stood up and was about to leave the dinning hall when Hector spoke:

"As you wish, but as your betrothed it's my duty to escort you."

Andromache glared at Hector who smiled back, but then she saw that her father was watching her. "Very well Prince Hector."

Hector smiled widely and Andromache couldn't help but enjoy it, he did have a nice smile. He stood up and took Andromache's arm and they both walked out of the dinning hall.

"I really do wish to make this marriage as easy for you as possible," said Hector, trying to start a conversation.

Andromache said nothing in reply and continued to walk down the halls to her chamber.

"You were riding a beautiful horse earlier today," said Hector, "it's a shame you can't bring him to Troy with you. I wasn't aware that you enjoyed riding horses, so I would like it if you would do me the honour of riding with me tomorrow."

Andromache again said nothing for a moment but then found the courage to speak. "As you wish, Prince Hector, I'm sure a horse can be provided to satisfy your wish at such _short notice_."

"I thought you would make our meetings difficult," grumbled Hector, but wished at once to take back his words.

Andromache stopped walking suddenly and turned to face Hector. "_Difficult?_ Of course our meetings would be difficult, Prince Hector, I'm being torn away from my family to marry and live in Troy with _you_."

"I'm sorry Andromache," said Hector, sadly, "I never meant to say that."

"But you thought it," cried Andromache, "that is enough." She then rushed to her chambers, ignoring Hector's apologies.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you to Queen Arwen, Lady Hades and Kcrane for reviewing, I really appreciate it, so thank you!! :)

In answer to your question, Queen Arwen, I only saw Podes mentioned on page 425 of my version of the Iliad (translated by Robert Fitzgerald), and he's only mentioned because he is killed by Menelaos, but is said to be a son of Eetion and a man whom Hector honored most in all the realm as his convivial friend :)

----

Andromache burst into her chambers and slammed the door behind her. She looked around her room, in hopes of finding some form of comfort. As her eyes quickly scanned the room she spotted her cloak and quickly picked it up, then left her room and made her way to the stables.

It was rare for Andromache to ride at night, but tonight she needed the comfort of riding and decided to ride to the lake, and watch the stars for a few hours before returning to the palace.

She was just preparing Alexandros to leave, when she saw a figure enter the stall she was in with Alexandros. Andromache looked to the door of the stall and instantly tried to run out of it, but the figure caught her arm. She turned to look at the person and saw that it was Hector; he loosened his grip on her arm when he saw the fear in her eyes.

"I knew you would come here," said Hector, "I suppose we do have something in common. I wanted to apologise Andromache, I spoke wrongly to you and I'm sorry."

Andromache looked into Hector's eyes and knew that he spoke the truth, that he really was sorry. "Your apology is accepted, Prince Hector, thank you."

Hector's mouth relaxed into a smile. "Were you planning on riding this evening?" And Hector looked over to Alexandros and to his saddle which Andromache had put on only moments before he had entered the stall.

Andromache sighed and nodded, she knew that Hector already knew the answer to his question and she didn't wish to anger him by lying.

"Where is your escort?" asked Hector. "I can understand you would like to ride alone during the day, but at night it's a different matter. I would be happy to escort you on your ride."

Andromache looked up at Hector once more and wondered why he was being so kind to her, why he continued to be kind to her when she was only horrible to him in return. She knew it wasn't Hector's fault that she was arranged to marry him, and that he didn't have to be nice to her, yet he was. "Thank you, Hector." Then Andromache smiled to him and returned to Alexandros' side.

Hector nodded and helped Andromache prepare Alexandros for the ride and then the horse he would ride, but said nothing because there were no words for him to voice, whichwould ever justify how he was feeling now that she had smiled at him. He had never seen a more beautiful smile, and it awoke new feelings within him that he had never felt before.

Soon Andromache was riding Alexandros with Hector by her side who rode Pode's horse, Hades. Andromache led the way to the lake and gasped aloud when she saw it, she had never seen it at night before.

"This is where I first saw you," said Hector and jumped off Hades and tied his reins to a nearby tree, then helped Andromache off her horse, and tied Alexandros to the same tree as Hades.

"Yes, it was," said Andromache and looked up to the sky and gazed at the twinkling stars above. Then after a moment she looked down and turned to look at Hector who watched her. "Do you wish to marry?"

"Do you?" asked Hector and laughed.

"Of course," said Andromache and thought for a moment before speaking again. "Although I never wished to be arranged in marriage, I wished to marry for love. Now tell me, do you wish to marry?"

"No," said Hector and turned away from Andromache and looked across the lake. "I've never wished to marry, I hadn't even thought of it until my father told me of my marriage to you. I suppose neither of us is getting what we wish out of this marriage."

Andromache nodded sadly and sat down on the grass and then looked out to the lake and imagined what it would be like to swim in it, if Hector wasn't with her then perhaps she would have swam in it.

"I'm sorry for being so uncivil to you today," said Andromache suddenly, "it was unfair of me and I'm sorry."

Hector's eyes widened with shock, he had never expected Andromache to apologise for her behavior towards him. He sat down on the grass next to Andromache. "Don't be sorry, I understand this is difficult for you."

For what seemed like hours they both sat there, neither one of them speaking, instead they simply looked out to the lake and up to the stars, both within their own worlds of thought.

"It's getting late," said Hector and stood up and went to untie Alexandros.

Andromache turned her head around and looked at Hector. _I should count myself lucky_, she thought, _not many maidens can say they will have a husband like Hector appears to be. _She then stood up and walked over to Hector and allowed him to help her onto Alexandros, even though she didn't need it.

In silence they returned to the palace, riding side by side. Once they had dismounted their horses, back at the stables, they returned them to their stalls, and Hector had insisted upon escorting Andromache to her chamber.

They were just about to turn around the corner leading to Andromache's chamber when she spotted her father at the end of the hall, he was obviously drunk but he was not alone … he was with Xanthe. He kissed her passionately and she returned the kiss, Andromache looked at them both, her eyes widening in alarm. She had always known that Xanthe was her father's mistress, but she had never thought, she had never imagined them actually kissing one another, which she knew they obviously did but she never actually imagined it. Andromache was then pulled away from that corner by Hector, in case her father saw them.

"No," said Andromache slowly, "that's the only way to get to my chambers."

"It's ok," said Hector, who had also seen and recognised King Eetion, with a girl Hector presumed as his mistress, "I will take you to mine until they go, I don't think the guest hall is too far away from here, or is it?"

"No it isn't," answered Andromache, "but I can't go into your chambers. Don't worry, I will just wait here until they go and then return to my room."

"But what if you are caught alone?" asked Hector, he felt partly responsible for how late he and Andromache had stayed by the lake.

Andromache sighed. "It'll be fine."

"I will stay here with you then," said Hector and stood next to Andromache with his back against the wall.

"You're too kind for your own good," grinned Andromache.

Hector laughed quietly. "I shall take that as a compliment."

"I meant it to be taken no other way," smirked Andromache and then her smirk suddenly faded as a laugh was heard by her father down the hall. "I always knew my father had a mistress and that she was Xanthe, my handmaiden. Everyone knows, even my mother. Although, I'd never actually imagined them _together_, even though they must be, it's silly I know. I suppose I must get used to seeing men with their mistresses, my poor mother bears it well."

"What are you implying?" asked Hector, trying to keep his tone calm and not angry, like he felt inside.

"I know you will have mistresses," said Andromache, plainly, "it's to be expected."

"I'm not a man to take on mistresses," said Hector sternly, "I will be a loyal husband to you, Andromache. Marriages are for two people only, and even though I've never wished to marry, I've always looked upon it as a scared bond between a man and a woman.And as I'venever liked the idea of mistresses, I'll not have any."

Andromache remained silent, she believed that Hector was lying to her because of the current situation; she never dreamed that he would stand by his word.

Hector looked around the corner and saw that King Eetion and his mistress had left. "They've gone."

"Thank you for waiting with me," said Andromache, quietly, "I'll be fine to return to my chamber on my own now, goodnight." With that Andromache left and returned to her chambers.

Hector returned to his own chambers and was surprised to find Paris already there; he had expected Paris to be enjoying the company of young maidens. "What are you doing here?"

Paris laughed; he knew exactly what his brother meant. "I've been waiting for you, dear brother. I saw you leave with Andromache, hours ago I might add, and I thought you would come back to the feast, but you didn't so I returned here andwaited for you to return. So, where were you for hours on end?"

"I was with Andromache," said Hector and tried not to grin when he remembered how Andromache had smiled at him.

"She tolerated you for hours?" asked Paris, who didn't attempt to conceal his shock.

"Yes, she did," replied Hector, happily, "you were right Paris, on closer acquaintance Andromache is certainly a very nice young lady. I think she is still nervous around me, it will take time before we are completely comfortable with one another, but today's events have proven to be successful."

"I hope it lasts," said Paris, sincerely.

"What do you mean?" asked Hector, bewildered.

"Andromache may be civil to you now," said Paris, "but when we set sail for Troy … I think she will be rather less than civil."

Hector sighed aloud, he knew Paris was right and cursed himself for speaking so positively of their meetings. Of course Andromache would not behave like she had today when she was on the ship sailing for Troy. _She will most likely be distraught and say nothing to me at all_, thought Hector, _she was probably only being nice to me this evening so I wouldn't reveal that she rode alone._


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I didn't update with a chapter yesterday because I put up two chapters the day before, just in case you were wondering :)

Queen Arwen- Thank you for your review! I wasn't aware that Hector and Podes were friends either. I did some research on Andromache's family last week and read that her brother's were all killed by Achilles. But then I found a different page that does actually mention that Podes died in Troy etc., I really don't know which is right or wrong, unfortunately there is so little on Andromache's family.

Donna Lynn- I didn't read anywhere that it was proper etiquette for the Princess to escort the Prince to his chambers, I just used it to finish up the chapter, so I'm probably wrong :) Thank you for your review, I really appreciate it and I'm glad you liked the fourth chapter :)

Kitera-n-Lil- Wow! Thank you so much for your review, that was very kind of you and I'm glad you like the story!! :)

Lady Hades- Thank you again for reviewing, I'm really happy that you like Andromache and Hector together, thanks :)

-----

The day had finally come for Andromache to leave with Hector and Paris for Troy. Andromache had not seen Hector often since the night they had rode together, because she had been busy packing her things, with the help of her mother.

Andromache had also not seen much of Xanthe, she presumed that Xanthe was with her father and she felt disgusted by it. She had barely been able to look at Xanthe on the morning after Andromache had seen her and her father kiss, but now she had calmed down and acted normally around Xanthe.

Andromache and her mother quickly packed away a few remaining items in Andromache's room, they knew that Hector had wanted to leave early that day.

"I'll miss you," said Queen Sofia softly, as she folded the violet peplos Andromache had worn on the night of the welcoming feast, and then started on folding another.

"I'll miss you too mother," said Andromache sadly and stopped gathering her jewelry to look at her mother. Over the last few days Andromache had felt like crying every time she had seen a member of her family, she had came to accept that she really would be leaving for Troy, and that this wasn't all a bad dream that she could awake from.

Queen Sofia could feel her daughter's eyes upon her and so stopped folding Andromache's clothes and rushed up to her, enveloping her in a strong embrace. At this Andromache burst into tears and clung onto her mother tightly, never wishing to let go.

"I can't do this mother," cried Andromache, "I don't want to leave you."

"Hush," soothed Queen Sofia and gently stroked Andromache's hair. "You'll be fine my dear, you'll be fine."

Andromache buried her face in her mother's arms and jumped slightly when there was a soft knock on her door. Andromache shook her head and more tears came gushing out. "I'm not ready to go!"

"Come in," shouted Queen Sofia and watched as Xanthe walked into the room.

"Prince Hector wishes to leave now, my queen," said Xanthe, and then bowed before Queen Sofia and Andromache before leaving.

"I can't go," sobbed Andromache, "tell Hector that I don't want to go."

Queen Sofia released a few tears and then wiped away her daughters. "Be brave my darling, please be brave."

Andromache nodded; she knew that her mother was trying hard not to cry also. Queen Sofia called for Xanthe and ordered for the rest of Andromache's clothes to be taken to the ship. Then the Queen took Andromache by her hand and led her to the palace docks, where the rest of Andromache's family would be to say goodbye.

King Eetion stood talking to Hector when Andromache and her mother finally arrived at the docks.

"Ah, at last Andromache," said the King when he saw his daughter. He hurried to her and embraced her in a gentle hug.

Even though her father had many faults, Andromache still loved him and clung onto him tightly, succeeding in locking away her tears. Then it was time for Andromache to say goodbye to each of her brothers and their wife's, she did so quickly as she could feel tears beginning to gather in her eyes. Once more Andromache said goodbye to her mother, and listened to the words of comfort she whispered in her ear.

"Are you ready?" asked Hector, patiently. He finally realised the pain Andromache was feeling, he could never imagine having to leave his family and country behind in exchange for a new one. Hector could also see that although Andromache didn't want to leave, that she wanted to be on the ship quickly so she could surrender to the tears that were springing up in her eyes, and that she didn't wish to cry in front of her relatives.

Andromache nodded silently and allowed Hector to take her arm and lead her to the ship, where Paris, Xanthe and the rest of the men were waiting. Andromache turned to look at her family once more and smiled sadly, once she had turned her head back around she suddenly submitted defeat to her tears which began to gush down her pale face.

Hector noticed and placed his hand over Andromache's and held it kindly, there were no words of comfort that he could ever speak to remove this pain. Hector helped Andromache onto the ship and stood by her side and waved goodbye to her family, as did she.

"Would you like me to show you to your quarters?" asked Hector, lightly.

Andromache shook her head. "I wish to stay here."

Hector nodded and called her handmaiden to watch over her while he talked to the captain of the ship. He saw that as soon as he had left, and Xanthe had come to comfort Andromache, that she burst into tears on Xanthe's shoulder. Hector felt a hand clench around his heart. _I should be the one comforting her_, thought Hector.

Paris had wisely fled to his own quarters, as much as he loved women, he could not bear to see them cry. Women crying put him on edge, which was a feeling he didn't like.

"It's ok Andromache," said Xanthe and brushed the hair out of Andromache's eyes.

"Please," mumbled Andromache, "please leave me Xanthe."

Xanthe nodded, leaving Andromache to her grief, and went to Andromache's quarters to prepare her bed in case the Princess felt the need to rest.

For hours Andromache stood there and looked out to the sea, the gigantic sea which she had wished to sail across for years, but had never wished to cross it while leaving her family behind. Now no tears trickled from Andromache's eyes, her eyes were perfectly dry but were instead filled with the feeling of pain. Numerous amounts of times Hector had watched Andromache at the other end of the ship, he knew she wished to be alone and so decided to leave her.

Paris, getting restless in his own quarters, stepped onto the deck and looked at Andromache, a wave of pity spreading across his face. He didn't dare to approach her, so instead walked to his brother, at the other end of the ship.

"How is she?" asked Paris, concerned.

Hector didn't need to ask Paris of whom he spoke. "I don't know, she wishes to be alone. She has stopped crying, however, but still continues to look out to the sea, as if she expects to still see Thebe."

Paris nodded and sighed heavily. "Has she eaten anything?"

Hector shook his head. "Xanthe, her handmaiden, took some food to her earlier but Andromache refused to eat it."

"Why don't you go and offer her some food now?" suggested Paris.

"Very well," answered Hector and collected some chilled fruit from the storage room, to take to Andromache.

"I brought you some fruit," said Hector. "May I eat with you or would you rather eat alone?"

"You may eat with me," replied Andromache.

Hector began to eat some fruit, still standing next to Andromache. He offered her a rather juicy plum, which she accepted but didn't eat, instead she held it in her hand, clenching tightly on it.

"It'll be getting dark soon," said Hector, once he had finished a red apple, "would you like to go to your quarters? It must have been a tiring day for you."

Andromache simply nodded and Hector led the way to her quarters, below the deck.

"This is your room," said Hector, opened the door and stepped into it. "Would you like me to leave some food here for you?"

"No thank you," said Andromache.

"Well if you want some food then you only need to ask your handmaiden to find me and I'll be happy to gather some for you," said Hector.

"I'll be fine … thank you Hector," said Andromache.

Hector nodded and left Andromache in her room.

As soon as Andromache was left in the room, she suddenly burst out into tears, but was unaware that Hector listened to her for a moment, from outside the door, before heading to his own quarters. He didn't know how to comfort her, so thought it best for her to be left alone.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews, I really do appreciate it. I've decided to stop replying to individual reviews in the chapters because if anyone happens to read this in the future, I don't want them to get offended because I hadn't replied to their review. I read all of the reviews and I love them to bits, so thank you **so** much if you take the time to review!

----

The first few days while sailing to Troy passed quickly. Andromache mainly stayed in her quarters but sometimes, late in the evening, she would come up onto the deck with her handmaiden and look out to the sea for a few moments but then would suddenly grow tired and return to her quarters.

Hector had tried to talk to Andromache every time she came up onto the deck, but she hardly ever replied to him with words, instead she would nod or shake her head. He understood that she was hurting, more than she knew.

One night, a week after they had set sail from Thebe, Andromache's handmaiden had felt too ill to stay up on the deck withherand so retired to Andromache's quarters, suffering from sea sick, and so Hector had decided to stay with Andromache.

"Are you cold?" asked Hector, who saw that Andromache was shivering slightly because she only wore a light, green peplos.

"A little," confessed Andromache, knowing that Hector could see her shiver slightly.

Hector removed his cloak from around him and placed it over Andromache; she held onto it and studied Hector's eyes for a few moments before looking away.

"Thank you," said Andromache and smiled at Hector.

Hector felt like his heart would explode when he looked at Andromache, and that she smiled back at him. He hadnever seen her looking so beautiful, and even though she was dressed simply and wore no jewelry, she seemed perfect to him. Slowly Hector took her face in his hands and kissed her lips softly.

Andromache was warmed to the end of her fingertips and toes, she felt like a volcano had erupted inside of her, and in doing so it had awoken new feelings for her, feelings she had never experienced before. She raised her hands to behind Hector's neck and ignored that the cloak had dropped from around her shoulders and to the floor.

Hector kissed Andromache more passionately with each second and groaned happily when he felt her arms wrap around him.

Andromache smiled and giggled inwardly as Hector pressed his lips against hers once more. She didn't love Hector, and she suspected that she never would but she enjoyed his company and knew that he would be a kind and gentle husband towards her.

-----

The remaining weeks on the ship, destined for Troy, passed by happily for Andromache and Hector. The first few days after Andromache and Hector kissed had been awkward for Andromache, she didn't know how to now react around him but he showed warmth and kindness towards her, so she did also.

Andromache's handmaiden had become terribly ill with sea sickness and so spent much of her time in Andromache's quarters, so Andromache was entertained by Paris, when Hector was busy.

"I'm glad you're going to marry Hector," said Paris, on the day before they were due to arrive in Troy. Both he and Andromache were standing out on the deck and looked out to the sea, mesmerized by its beauty. "I couldn't have thought of a better woman to be with Hector, and I couldn't have thought of a better man to be with you, Andromache."

Andromache blushed and nudged Paris kindly. "Thank you Paris. I didn't think an arranged marriage would be as peaceful as this, but Hector and I are good friends, now, which will make for a happy marriage."

"Good friends?" gasped Paris. "Andromache you will be marrying Hector soon, don't you love him?"

Andromache laughed. "Love him? There is no such thing as love in an arranged marriage. Well perhaps there is the love of friendship, but usually nothing more."

"By the gods, you sound just like him," sighed Paris.

"Hector said the same thing?" asked Andromache, curiously.

"Yes," said Paris, but then looked at Andromache's disappointed face and added: "But he said that after he had first met you, before the welcoming feast, and I'm sure that he feels differently now."

Andromache nodded slightly. She knew it was silly, but she felt hurt for Hector to think that love didn't exist in arranged marriages, even though she thought the sameway … or she thought she did.

"Are you alright Andromache?" asked Paris, concerned by the dazed expression she wore.

Andromache turned her head to look at Paris. "Of course, I'm fine."

Paris nodded and said nothing more.

----

On the day they were to arrive in Troy, Hector called for Andromache, who was tending to Xanthe.

"You called for me?" asked Andromache. Hector had noticed that since yesterday, Andromache had been quite distant from him.

"Yes, I wanted to show you something," said Hector, and then he hurried behind Andromache and covered her eyes with his hands and slowly ushered her to the side of the ship. Only when Hector had positioned Andromache in the best possible place to see the magnificent view, did he pull his hands away from Andromache's eyes.

Andromache gasped loudly as she looked upon Troy for the first time. She had never seen a place more beautiful, not even Thebe could compare to the beauty that was Troy. The city of Troy was built upon a hill and was surrounded by a gigantically tall, sand coloured wall, and it overlooked the sea. The blistering, hot sun shined its light down upon Troy, making its walls appear to glitter slightly.

"It's beautiful Hector," breathed Andromache and continued to gaze at Troy with wonder.

Hector smiled, he was always struck by how beautiful Troy really was when he returned from long voyages abroad. "We'll be arriving in Troy shortly, Andromache."

Andromache nodded, still looking out across the sea and to Troy. "I'll go and get ready, thank you Hector." She then hurried to her quarters and prepared herself for meeting Hector's family for the first time.

"It's truly beautiful, isn't it?" asked Paris, who slowly walked to Hector's side and looked at the magnificent Troy.

"Yes," breathed Hector, happily.

"What did Andromache think of Troy?" asked Paris, and watched Hector carefully.

Hector smiled upon remembering Andromache's reaction. "She loved it."

"Perhaps she will come to love you also, in time," said Paris and continued to study his brother carefully.

"Love me?" whispered Hector, his face turning pale.

Paris sighed. "I was talking to Andromache, yesterday, and she seemed quite upset that you had said there was never love in arranged marriages."

"You told her that, why?" asked Hector, quietly and avoided his brother's glaring eyes.

"Because she asked," answered Paris, "after I had asked her if she loved you, which she replied to as no, because she thought there was no such thing as love in arranged marriages. I'm only saying all this because I believe you and Andromache could love one another. I've seen the way you look at her when she comes to you, the way you look at her when she smiles, and I've seen the way she looks at you when you treat her as an equal, and even after you kissed her."

"You saw that?" gasped Hector.

Paris laughed. "I think the whole crew saw the passionate kiss between you and Andromache." Then after a moment, he continued: "I know you probably think thatI couldn't possibly begin to imagine what love must be like as Ibed different maidens when the mood strikes me, and married women, but I can see the beginnings of it in your relationship with Andromache."

Hector laughed. "Goodness Paris, I never expected you to say something like that, let alone think it."

"I normally wouldn't," replied Paris, frostily, "but I like Andromache, as a friend, and I can tell she wishes to be loved."

Hector said nothing; instead he thought of Andromache and wondered if what Paris had said was really true. He had noticed that Andromache had been distant with him yesterday, after she had spoken to Paris, so perhaps she was upset that he didn't think love was possible in arranged marriages. Hector tried to think the same way he had thought before attending the welcoming feast in Thebe, but he didn't think he could. He felt that there was a chance that he could love Andromache, given time. Andromache was more perfect to Hector than he could ever imagine, he just needed to open his heart to her, and she needed to open her heart to him.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews! I just wanted to write that Briseis won't be in this fic, instead I will use Hector and Paris' sisters: Cassandra and Polyxena. I'm just going to pretend that Priam had four children (and not fifty :P).

----

"Are you excited, Andromache?" asked Xanthe, while brushing Andromache's hair. Andromache had always told Xanthe to call her by her name, and nothing else.

"No," breathed Andromache, heavily. "I'm too nervous to be excited. I'm worried that Hector's family won't like me, and so then I'll be doomed to misery because I'll have a husband and new family that don't love me." Shelaughed so Xanthe wouldn't take her words to heart, although inside Andromache's heart was screaming because she did fear what she said.

"Prince Hector's family will love you," said Xanthe, "Prince Paris has certainly taken with you, and Prince Hector seems like a kind man."

"Yes, a kind man," murmured Andromache, lost within her own thoughts.

Loud shouting was heard from on the deck and the ship moved slightly, Andromache quickly turned to Xanthe. "What is it?"

Xanthe shook her head, not knowing why the men were shouting, and so left the room to inquire of one of the crewmen.

Andromache brought two sides of her hair together and clipped them together, behind her head, with a beautifully decorated clip that her mother had given her only a couple of weeks before Hector arrived in Thebe. Then Andromache allowed the rest of her neatly, curled hair to fall down her back. She was just placing her Theban crown on her head; Andromache would wear a Trojan crown once she had married Hector, when Xanthe burst into the room.

"We're here, we've arrived on Troy's beaches!" panted Xanthe.

Andromache looked at Xanthe and then turned her head, sharply, away. She cried inwardly, knowing that now she was in Troy, she would soon be marrying Hector. He was a perfect man to be arranged to marry, which Andromache knew, but she couldn't help but feel sadness at the thought of marriage when she didn't love her betrothed, and he didn't love her.

Xanthe smiled happily when she saw how magnificent Andromache looked. She wore a light, blue coloured peplos which was decorated at the edges with dark, blue thread. Small, jeweled earrings dangled from Andromache's ears, and she wore a few gold bracelets around both her wrists.

"You look perfect," said Xanthe and embraced Andromache in a tight hug. "Your mother would be proud of you."

Andromache clung onto Xanthe tightly, and bit down on her lips firmly, to keep herself from crying. "Thank you Xanthe, thank you so much."

Xanthe gently pulled herself away from Andromache's arms and went to open the door to the room, as someone had just knocked on it.

Hector stood there and his calming eyes ran across to Andromache, where she stood, quite perfectly and looked radiant. He was almost relieved to see that she hadn't been crying, although he clearly saw the distress spreading across her face as he looked at her, because he signaled that it was time to leave the ship and enter the walls of Troy.

"Xanthe, will you please wait for us on the deck?" asked Hector.

Xanthe obediently left the room and walked, quickly, to the deck and spoke with Paris while they both waited for Hector and Andromache.

"Are you ready, Andromache?" asked Hector, who walked into the room and carried on until he was directly in front of her.

Andromache nodded and gazed back at Hector, her eyes relaxing slightly. She then stepped closer to Hector, so close that she could feel his warm breath tickle her cold cheeks. Slowly Andromache wrapped her arms around Hector's neck, and then tenderly kissed his smooth and gentle lips.

Hector was taken aback at first, he hadn't expected Andromache to kiss him so suddenly, but then he wrapped his arms around Andromache's waist and held onto her tightly, as if he were protecting her.

Soon Andromache withdrew her lips from Hector's and smiled. "Thank you Hector, thank you for showing kindness towards me when we first met, I only wish that I had treated you equally."

A smile widened across Hector's face and he lovingly stroked Andromache's cheek. "You had reason to be uncivil towards me, and you weren't nearly as terrible as I had imagined."

Andromache laughed and allowed Hector to take her arm and lead her to the deck. She closed her eyes for a moment as she stepped up onto the deck, because she was faced by the blinding sunlight that shined in the ships direction.

"It's not always this bright," reassured Hector, as he watched Andromache reopen her eyes. "We'll ride the horses from here, you'll share a horse with me, and once we are within Troy's walls, we'll ride chariots to the palace."

Hector led Andromache off the ship, Paris and Xanthe following close behind. Hector helped Andromache onto a brown mare before he climbed on behind her. He brought his arms around Andromache, and held onto the reins. Andromache blushed inwardly; she loved the feel of Hector's powerful arms wrapped around her. Before Hector, she had never been touched by another man like this, except by her relatives. She felt so secure within his arms, that even though he didn't love her, he would still protect her from harm's way.

Paris rode a horse by himself, and Xanthe rode with a man that had accompanied Hector to Thebe.

"Are you nervous?" asked Hector, because he could see that Andromache's hands shook slightly.

"Yes," admitted Andromache. "I'm afraid that yourfamily will dislike me." She wasn't aware as to why, but Andromache felt that she could tell Hector anything, and that no matter how silly it seemed, he would never laugh at her.

"You have no reason to fear that," insisted Hector, "my family will fall in love with you as soon as they lay eyes upon you."

_But you didn't_, thought Andromache. _Although I fear that I may fall in love with you, and that the love will be unreturned. _Andromache had dismissed the thought of ever being in love with her husband when she was arranged in marriage, but now that she had met Hector, that had changed.

Soon they were within Troy's glorious walls and Andromache held onto Hector as he helped her off the horse. Hector then led Andromache to the chariots that waited for them inside the city's walls. Paris chose to ride his horse to the palace, he didn't wish to ride a chariot alone, and Xanthe continued to ride with the same man as she had before.

Andromache's eyes widened with shock when she saw that the people of Troy had come out of their homes to welcome home the Princes and to greet her. She blushed heavily as people hung out of their windows and wished her a joyful life, and as people on the ground greeted her happily. Andromache turned to look at Hector, her eyes questioning him as to why he didn't tell her that they would be greeted like this, but he merely laughed and she elbowed him playfully, which caused him to laugh more.

Fear began to bubble in the pit of Andromache's stomach as she caught sight of the palace, high up on the hill. She steadied her right hand which shook furiously underneath Hector's, and then she suddenly felt dizzy and gripped onto the chariot with her other.

"Are you alright Andromache?" asked Hector, concern rising in his voice.

Andromache nodded and began to breathe deeply, knowing that her nerves werecausing her feel like this. She clasped her hand to her stomach as she felt sick begin to gurgle within it.

The palace was drawing closer and closer, when suddenly Hector stopped the chariot. He and Andromache stepped off it and waited patiently while Paris dismounted his horse. Xanthe would be shown to the women's quarters of the palace while Andromache greeted Hector's family.

"It feels as if we've been gone forever," sighed Paris, as he walked to Andromache and Hector.

Hector nodded and started walking up the stone steps, and to the entrance hall of the palace, with Andromache at his side and Paris following behind.

Andromache was no longer feeling nauseous, however, she still felt a little dizzy and grasped onto Hector tightly as she walked up the steps with him. She looked up to the entrance hall and could see an aged man and woman standing side by side, presumably King Priam and Queen Hecuba. Two women were standing behind the King and Queen of Troy, and Andromache thought them to be sisters of Hector and Paris.

Hector and Andromache stepped into the grand entrance hall, andAndromache suddenly realised how wonderful the view was, even grander than any view in Thebe. The view from so high upon the city was amazing; she had never seen a more beautiful sight as she watched the people of Troy, and then gazed out to the sea for a few seconds before walking to King Priam and Queen Hecuba, with Hector.

"My son, welcome home," greeted King Priam and embraced Hector. Speckles of grey hair could be seen in Priam's white hair. He was extremely tall, even though years of age were catching up with him, which Andromache could clearly see by looking at his wrinkled face. He had the same chocolate coloured eyes as Hector did, and she smiled.

"Allow me to introduce my betrothed: Andromache," said Hector, happily and gestured to Andromache.

Andromache curtsied before the King and Queen, but felt slightly odd in doing so.

King Priam smiled happily and kissed Andromache on both cheeks. "It's an honour to meet you, my child."

"Thank you my King," replied Andromache.

"You may call me Priam, Andromache," chuckled Priam.

Hecuba then greeted Hector; she kissed his cheeks gently and embraced him in a tight squeeze. Hector was still her little boy, and always would be.

Andromache studied Hecuba briefly and saw only gentle kindness and warmth beaming back at her. Hecuba had thin streaks of white hair mixed within her grey hair, and even though the Queen looked frail, Andromache could see that this woman was still young at heart.

"Welcome Andromache," said Hecuba, and kissed Andromache's cheeks. "You may call me Hecuba; I detest being called Queen by family." Hecuba then laughed, as did everyone else.

"This is my sister, Cassandra," said Hector, after a moment, and gestured to the Princess that appeared to be the eldest of those who stood behind King Priam. Princess Cassandra stepped forward to greet Andromache; she was known to be the fairest of Priam's daughters.

Andromache's eyes suddenly widened, but she quickly composed herself. Stories of Cassandra, daughter of Priam, where widely known, because she had been rumored to be a seeress. Andromache's body tensed slightly as Cassandra's eyes scanned over her, but then Cassandra smiled and happily moved closer to Andromache.

However, Cassandra's eyes were filled with sadness, she appeared to be on the verge of tears, but she, too, quickly composed herself and smiled weakly, she knew the future of Andromache and Hector, and was tormented by it. She couldn't prevent what would happen, she didn't have the power and no one believed her prophecies, even though they were true, so she kept them to herself, and allowed fate to run its course.

"It's an honour to meet you, Andromache," said Cassandra.

"Thank you," said Andromache, "it's an honour to meet you also, Cassandra."

"And finally," beamed Hector, "allow me to introduce my other sister: Polyxena."

Polyxena stepped forward and greeted Andromache, then stepped beside her mother.

"Hector, will you please join me while I discuss some matters with you?" asked Priam.

Hector nodded, but then looked at Andromache. "But what about -,"

"We'll take care of Andromache," interrupted Paris and smirked slightly.

"Very well," said Hector, then left with his father.

"I'll show you to the women's quarters, Andromache," said Hecuba, but before Andromache could reply, Paris spoke:

"Oh mother! Andromache has just arrived, she doesn't want to go to her chambers, she wishes to explore."

Andromache and Hecuba laughed.

"If Andromache does wish to explore," laughed Hecuba, "then you may be her guide Paris. But please, please try and return before the feast this evening."

"When am I ever late, dear mother?" said Paris, innocently.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews and thank you for adding me to the C2 community you have, Lady Hades!

This is quite a long chapter, so enjoy :)

----

Hector and Priam sat in the meeting room, and having discussed the current situations in nearby countries, they turned their talk to Andromache.

"She seems like a very pleasant girl," said Priam, and saw his son's face light up.

"She is," replied Hector, "I think we will live comfortably with one another."

"You're very lucky Hector," said Priam, "make sure you remember that."

Hector nodded. _I remember it every time I'm with her_, thought Hector.

"The wedding will be next week," said Priam, and drank from his goblet filled with wine. "I think you and Andromache should spend as much time with each other, as you can, between now and then."

Hector again nodded in agreement. "If that's all father, I would like to see if she is settling in."

"Of course," said Priam, and watched as Hector left. _They'll be extremely content with each other_, he mused.

Hector walked through the palace, he felt more relaxed now that he was within his own home, and headed towards the women's quarters, where he thought Andromache would be. However, as he walked down the hall leading to his destination, he passed his mother and greeted her.

"You weren't long with your father," said Hecuba, when she saw Hector, and halted in front of him.

"I wasn't, surprisingly," grinned Hector. "Is Andromache in the women's quarters?"

"No, Paris insisted on showing her the gardens," answered Hecuba, "He thought you would like to show Andromache the rest of the palace, tomorrow."

"How considerate of him," laughed Hector. "Thank you mother, I'll try and find them."

Hecuba nodded and continued walking down the hall and to her own chamber, while Hector made his way to the palace gardens.

----

"It's very beautiful," admitted Andromache, as she walked around the palace gardens with Paris.

"It is," agreed Paris. "I hardly come here now; I spend much more of my time in the town with beautiful young maidens, although none of them can compare to your sheer beauty." Paris and Andromache laughed.

"Oh Paris!" exclaimed Andromache. "Your charming words are only wasted on me."

Paris plucked the head off a blue rose and began twirling it, with his fingers. "If you could return to Thebe, would you?"

Andromache was silent for a moment as she pondered over Paris' question. "No, I don't think I would. I'd have to be arranged in marriage one day, and I can't think of a better man than Hector."

Paris nodded. "When I was younger, I wished to be like him, but then my mind was suddenly awakened with the thought of women."

Andromache laughed, but then her tone grew serious. "Do you find any happiness in bedding women, is there such simple happiness?"

"I'm happy when I'm around women," said Paris, honestly, and then paused before speaking again. "Although, I think that one day I'll find a woman to love, who'll love me in return."

Andromache bowed her head sadly, Paris spoke of the very thing she wished for: to find someone to love and to be loved in return. "Do you think it's possible to learn to love, or fall in love gradually?"

Paris looked to Andromache and realised why she asked. "Of course I do, how else may people fall in love?"

Their attention was then drawn to heavy footsteps behind them. Paris smiled as he saw Hector nearing him and Andromache.

"I'll leave you both alone," Paris grinned, and quickly returned into the palace.

"Where did Paris go?" asked Hector, when he reached Andromache.

"He decided to leave us alone," smirked Andromache.

Hector drew his arms around Andromache's waist. "How do you feel?"

_Safe_, thought Andromache. But she decided to answer differently: "Very happy, your family is lovely." After a moment she spoke again. "Your mother told me that we're going to be married next week and I was thinking that we barely know each other, so perhaps we should … should-,"

"Spend time together?" interjected Hector.

"Yes," answered Andromache. "But if you'll be busy, then it doesn't matter."

"Andromache," said Hector and kissed her forehead softly, "you're going to be my wife, of course I'll not be busy."

Andromache smiled shyly, and suddenly felt her heart was braking, she was falling in love.

----

"These are the women's quarters," said Hector. He and Andromache had returned inside the palace, and Hector had shown her to where her chamber would be until they were married.

"Will you not show me to my chambers?" asked Andromache, slightly bewildered as to why they didn't enter.

"I'm not allowed in there," said Hector, smiling. "Your handmaiden will probably be waiting for you, so she'll show you to your room."

"No man is allowed in these quarters?" asked Andromache.

"Not even my father," replied Hector. "My mother uses it as her refuge when they argue."

"A wise woman," said Andromache and then laughed.

"Indeed," said Hector. "I'm sure you're tired and need to prepare for the feast, so I'll say goodbye."

"Goodbye," said Andromache and then entered the women's quarters.

Andromache had stepped into the communal sitting area. In a corner of the room, there was a loom, but it looked as if it hadn't been used for many a year. She presumed that the looms were kept in the chambers, like in Thebe. A few chairs were scattered around the room, and different coloured rugs were placed by the balcony that revealed a wonderful view of the sea. She saw that only Polyxena was in the room, and she looked up from arranging flowers as Andromache entered.

"Andromache," greeted Polyxena and motioned for her to sit beside her. "I should be preparing for the feast, but I can't find my handmaiden, I think she is feeling unwell. Usually I'd use my mothers, or Cassandra's, but as it's a feast, they're occupied. I could use another handmaiden, but I prefer a girl that I know."

"My handmaiden, Xanthe, came with me from Thebe," Andromache said, "would you like her to help you? I'm sure I could begin with my hair while I waited."

"I would love to, thank you," beamed Polyxena.

"Would you please show me to my chambers, Xanthe will probably be there?" asked Andromache.

"Of course," answered Polyxena and showed Andromache to her room.

Xanthe waited for Andromache in her room, as Andromache had thought. She was more than happy to help Polyxena prepare for the feast, which Andromache was glad of because she desired time alone.

Andromache's defenses around her heart were slowly crumbling down. But she felt like nothing more than a friend to Hector, and she wished to be more. A wife she would soon be to him, but Andromache wished to be loved by Hector, loved so deeply and passionately, that nothing could ever tear them apart. _My heart is breaking_, she thought, _but is his?_ Tears slowly ran down Andromache's cheeks.

The door to Andromache's chamber opened, and Xanthe stepped into the room, having returned from Polyxena's chamber, where she skillfully prepared the Princess for the evening's feast. She was slightly startled to see Andromache with tears flooding out of her eyes.

"What's wrong?" asked Xanthe and rushed to Andromache's side, who sat on her bed.

"Nothing," mumbled Andromache, and brought her hand to her mouth, to stifle her sobs. "I'm fine Xanthe."

Xanthe turned Andromache to face her. "Is it because you miss Thebe?"

Andromache shook her head vigorously. "No … it's Hector."

"Hector?" asked Xanthe, somewhat puzzled. "I thought you and Hector were friends."

"We are," cried Andromache, "but … I care for him, I'm beginning to care for him more and more each time I see him. I feel weak when I'm around him, not because I fear him, but because I don't wish to show him my feelings, when I know that he … he doesn't feel the same."

Xanthe hugged Andromache and stroked her hair, to soothe her mind. "Do you love him?"

"I don't know," murmured Andromache, "how do I tell if I'm in love or not? I have feelings for Hector, but I can't decipher them."

"Love is different for everyone," said Xanthe and her eyes trailed away, to look out of the balcony and to the sea.

Andromache looked up to Xanthe and tried to read her expression as she watched the sea. "Did you ever love … my father?"

Xanthe slowly turned her head to Andromache and nodded sadly. "I never thought I did, I loved his affection towards me, but I didn't think that I loved him, not until we left Thebe. I realised, once we had set sail, how much I truly did care for your father. It's childish I know, for the mistress to fall in love with her master … but _I did_."

Silence then filled the room and Andromache thought over Xanthe's words. "I never blamed you for being my father's mistress. I even saw you and my father kiss one night, and at first I was angry at you both, but I can understand now. You never chose to be his mistress, and I'm sorry that you had to leave him."

"You've no need to apologise," said Xanthe, "I should be, and I'm truly sorry Andromache."

Andromache embraced Xanthe once more. "I should prepare for the feast, did you finish helping Polyxena?"

"I did," said Xanthe, "I had thought that Polyxena was older, but she is only sixteen. King Priam may soon find her a husband, which is a shame as she seems very nice."

Andromache nodded and sat down in the wooden chair by the mirror in her room, to be prepared for the feast.

-----

Hector paced up and down in his chamber, nervously twiddling his thumbs. He was dressed for the feast, and chose to wear a dark blue robe, but still felt nervous.

The door to his room opened and Hector started.

"Are you ready?" It was Paris, and he grinned when he saw how agitated his brother's expression was.

"What are you doing here Paris?" asked Hector, angrily.

"Mother sent me to collect you," replied Paris, "it's time for the feast."

"I don't need collecting," snapped Hector.

"Obviously," muttered Paris, as he cast a glance at Hector's fidgeting hands. "Are you nervous?"

"No!" scowled Hector, but then sighed heavily, admitting defeat. "Yes … I am."

"Why?" inquired Paris. He had never been fortunate enough to see his brother nervous, and was enjoying himself immensely.

"Because," said Hector, "because I like Andromache. I don't wish to appear childish around her; I've never been good with women. Andromache and I have become friends, but now that the wedding is drawing near … I don't want to jeopardize what we've gained, by acting like a fool."

"You're not a fool Hector!" said Paris. "Andromache likes you for who you are. Stop fretting and come with me to the feast."

Hector nodded and made his way to the dinning hall with Paris. He was relieved to see that Andromache hadn't arrived because he wanted to gain his wits before she did.

Almost all of the seats had been filled, except for the seat next to his, where Andromache would sit. Hector also noticed that Polyxena hadn't arrived either. He leaned across to his mother, who sat next to his father.

"Where are Andromache and Polyxena?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Hecuba and glanced around the room. "Polyxena was supposed to bring Andromache with her, I'll see if they're in the women's quarters."

"I'll go mother, they're probably coming this way now," said Hector, slightly annoyed with Polyxena.

Hector paced through the halls of the palace, taking the shorter route to the women's quarters, by crossing through the gardens. He was just turning around another corner when he heard a woman scream. His heart began to beat rapidly, he had never heard Andromache scream, but he knew it was her. Hector ran through the halls to the women's quarters from where it had come. He had never felt so scared in all his life; he couldn't allow any harm to come to Andromache.

However, as Hector raced down the hall, leading to the women's quarters, he saw a different scene from what he had imagined. Andromache and Polyxena were standing outside the door to the women's quarters, and they were with two guards, they both appeared to be perfectly fine.

"What's going on?" panted Hector and walked to where they stood.

Confusion quickly swept across Andromache's face when she saw Hector; especially as she looked into his eyes and saw that they were filled with fear. "We're on our way to the feast, shouldn't you be also?"

"I was there, but as you and my sister were running late, I came to find you," said Hector, who had managed to catch his breath. "Why did you scream?"

"How did you know it was me?" asked Andromache, slightly shocked.

"I just knew," replied Hector.

"Forgive me, Prince Hector," said one of the guards, "we were patrolling the palace and greeted the Princesses as they left their quarters. But as we approached them we startled Princess Andromache, which caused her to scream, it was never our intention to frighten either of the Princesses."

Hector nodded, and felt that his fears of being a fool had come true. "Very well, you may be on your way now."

The guards nodded and left.

"I think I should go to the feast," said Polyxena, and began walking away, "I'll tell mother you'll arrive shortly."

"I'm sorry Hector," said Andromache, miserably. "The guards greeted me when I was leaving the quarters; I know it's silly that I … screamed."

Hector stepped forward to her and laughed. "You scared me half to death."

"I'm so sorry!" said Andromache, but then a thought a thought flashed through her mind. "_Why_ did I scare you?"

"Because you're going to be my wife," said Hector and smiled broadly.

"Ah," whispered Andromache, and bowed her head slightly. She was upset, Andromache had wished for him to say that he feared for her life because he cared for her.

"Are you alright?" asked Hector, he had noticed her reaction.

"Of course," answered Andromache, brightly and raised her head to meet Hector's eyes.

It suddenly became apparent in his mind as to why Andromache had reacted strangely. He could have struck himself for speaking about her as if she were his property; he now wished to have said why he really did fear for her. "I'm sorry Andromache. I never meant to say that."

"Don't worry Hector," lied Andromache, "what you said was fine."

"No it wasn't," said Hector, who could sense that Andromache was lying. "I feared for you, because I _care about you_ Andromache."

Andromache blushed heavily, she could tell by Hector's sincere tone and by the way he delved into her eyes, that he spoke the truth. "I care for you also, Hector."

Hector laughed and took Andromache in his arms. He kissed her gently at first as he didn't wish to startle her, but then he felt an urgent desire to kiss her more passionately, so he did.

Andromache clasped her arms around Hector's neck and slowly began to run her hands through his wavy, brown hair.

"We need to go to the feast," giggled Andromache, before Hector could kiss her again.

"They'll wait," said Hector, cheekily and kissed Andromache once more.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I'm quite worried about this chapter because something happens in it, and I'm not sure if it's the right time for me to put it into the story, I wasn't even expecting for it to be in this chapter, it just happened. I've decided to keep it in, so I'm sorry if you dislike it. Also, thank you for the reviews! :)

I wanted to say that I mention Andromache wearing a Himation, which was first an outdoor robe, but then light material came into style and it was worn at any time, it's made from rectangle of woven wool.

-----

Finally Hector and Andromache tore themselves apart and made their way to the dinning hall.

Andromache held onto Hector's hand, and was examined it for scars. "You have three scars on just one hand."

Hector smiled. "Do you wish to count all of my scars?"

"Perhaps I will," laughed Andromache, "one day."

They stepped into the dinning hall; thankfully they didn't gather too much attention, as the food had already been carried in, and everyone ate and talked happily.

"We decided to start," said Priam, concealing a grin, "as we weren't aware as to how long you'd be."

Andromache blushed, but Hector merely laughed and helped Andromache into his chair, before seating himself. Polyxena sat on Andromache's right side, and Hector sat on her left. She felt perfectly content, and giggled inwardly as Hector's leg brushed against her own.

Priam then stood up, holding his gold goblet which was, once again, filled to the brim with wine. "Welcome, my friends, to this feast on this glorious evening. I'll save many of my words for the wedding feast, but please raise your goblets in honour of Prince Hector and Paris for returning home, and to Prince Hector and Princess Andromache!"

"To the Princes, and Prince Hector and Princess Andromache," the guests cheered, in unison.

Priam then sat down and began eating the food that had been brought to him, like everyone else. Andromache looked to her plate, which she noticed was now covered with food. Hardly any of the food seemed familiar to her, although it looked delicious.

"My mother thought you'd like to try everything," laughed Hector. "I think she thought Paris and I also needed to." He then looked down to his place which was filled with food.

"I'll thank your mother later," said Andromache.

Andromache and Hector ate their food in silence; Andromache thought the food was amazing; she had never tasted food like it. But then Hector broke the silence between them.

"Would you like to go riding with me tomorrow?" he asked, and drank from his goblet before speaking again. "We could take some food, and spend the whole day together by the beaches."

"That would be lovely," said Andromache and smiled happily. "Thank you, Hector." She then turned to look at Hector; they were more like friends, than lovers.

Hector nodded and continued to eat.

The feast lasted well into the night. Finally, Hector escorted her to the women's quarters, and kissed her goodnight before returning to his own chamber. She watched as he walked away, and felt an odd sense of sadness as she did.

----

Andromache awoke early the next morning, despite being tired because she had tossed continusely in her sleep; she wasn't accustomed to the sound of the sea as it crashed against the beaches. She prepared herself that day, not wishing to wake Xanthe who was in need of rest after the long voyage to Troy. Andromache chose to wear a yellow Himation, and to leave her hair loose, because she wished to be completely comfortable while riding, as the day was already hot.

Alexandros, Andromache's horse in Thebe, was to be cared for by her brother Podes. She said goodbye to her horse on the evening before she left Thebe. Andromache had cried in his stall as she said goodbye to him, but he had only looked back at her, wondering why she was upset.

A knock sounded on Andromache's door, she went to answer it and was welcomed by Polyxena, who had thought like Andromache and dressed simply.

"Good morning Andromache," said Polyxena, brightly. "Hector sent me to escort you to the palace stables."

"Good morning," greeted Andromache. "I'm ready now, if you'd like to show me."

Polyxena nodded and took Andromache's arm, leading her to the palace stables where Hector waited.

"Are you nervous about marrying Hector?" she asked, curiously. "I must say that I've never seen two people, in an arranged marriage, be as happy around each other as you and Hector."

"I'm nervous, of course," replied Andromache, slowly while she thought over the question. "But yes, Hector and I are very happy around each other."

"In a year or two," Polyxena sighed, "I shall be made to marry. I only wish that I'm as fortunate as you."

"I hope that you are," agreed Andromache. "Has your sister never shown any interest in marrying?"

Polyxena shook her head. "My father tried to find her a suitor when she was eighteen, which was almost two years ago, but … but only a few men came to my father, and once they had met Cassandra, they … changed their minds."

Both Polyxena and Andromache felt comfortable around one another, despite having known each other for less than a day, so Andromache felt no restrictions in asking her next question:

"Was she disappointed?"

"No," said Polyxena, "she has never wished to marry. I think she knew that she wouldn't one of the men who came."

They had now reached the stables and Andromache was amazed to see how organised and neatly kept it was, especially at how much larger these stables were compared to the royal stables in Thebe. She could see Hector waiting, stroking the manes of two horses that were already prepared.

"I'll leave you now," said Polyxena, and smiled.

Andromache nodded. "Thank you Polyxena." Polyxena then left, and Andromache walked to Hector.

"I knew you'd like to ride your own horse," said Hector, "so I chose Hermione for you to ride." Hector then patted the white mare, she was truly beautiful. She had little specks of grey hair around her heels, but other than that she was completely white.

Hector helped Andromache onto Hermione, who was much larger than Alexandros was, so Andromache was glad of the help. Then Hector jumped onto his own horse, a dark chestnut coloured stallion, and she noticed he had a few scars around his legs and face, Andromache presumed that this was a horse Hector had used in war.

They rode out of the stables, and out of the confines of the city's walls. Hector started his horse into a fast gallop, Andromache followed suit, and they made it to the beaches quickly. The tide was not due to swim up the beach until later that day, so they were able to spend as much time together on the beach, as they wished.

Once they had arrived they placed a sheet on the sand to sit on and then ate breakfast, which consisted of chilled fruits, perfect to eat on such a blistering hot day.

"Tell me something about your self," said Andromache, and curiously watched Hector.

"Like what?" Hector laughed.

"Well … what was your childhood like?"

"As well as can be expected," said Hector, thoughtfully. "I'm the oldest, the first in line to the throne so I had to act accordingly, at all times."

"Do you envy Paris for being allowed so much freedom?" asked Andromache.

"Yes," answered Hector, "I've often envied him when I'm sent away to fight, and he's left in Troy to bed as many women as he pleases."

"Has your father never reproached Paris on his way of life?" asked Andromache. "Does your father not wish Paris to be in the army, like you?"

"Paris is still a child in my father's eyes," said Hector, "but Paris can't wield a sword to save his life, and he can't stand the sight of blood. He is good at archery though, which is something to be thankful for."

Andromache nodded.

"Now tell me," Hector and ate a grape before speaking again, "what was your childhood like?"

"Fantastic!" beamed Andromache, and laughed as she recalled certain memories from it. "I have seven older brothers, which you know, so I was allowed a lot more freedom than other girls, because my brothers allowed me to accompany them when they left the palace. My parent's were always loving, especially my mother, so I never wanted for love or attention."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Hector, sincerely, and then paused for a moment while he thought of a question to ask her. "What do you fear?"

"Many things," said Andromache, honestly. "I mainly fear death; however, I especially fear the death of a loved one."

Hector nodded in agreement. "You fear what I do, but, sadly, death comes to us all."

"Do you like fighting?" asked Andromache.

"I've never liked fighting," he answered, sadly. "However, it's my duty to protect my country, so I take the task on willingly."

"When I first heard that I was to marry you," said Andromache, "I thought you would be a brutish warrior, but you're not. I don't know why I'm saying this now, other than I wish to, but Hector … I've never met a man like you, and I'm glad that I'm marrying you."

Hector leaned over to Andromache and kissed her. "I love you Andromache."

Andromache's eyes widened with shock, she pushed Hector off her and stood up. "Don't Hector! Please don't speak those words when you don't mean them!"

Hector stepped onto his feet. "I …-,"

"Please Hector," cried Andromache, "I know why you said them, you said them because you thought it was a good response, but it wasn't! I _know you don't love me_ … I know, I can't expect you to love me and I never will."

"Andromache!" shouted Hector and ran after her as she made her way to the horses. "Andromache, listen to me!"

Andromache mounted her horse, with some difficulty, and was about to ride back to the Palace when Hector caught her reins and steadied Hermione.

"_Do not_ run away from me when I'm talking to you," said Hector, rather too sternly.

"I don't want to listen to the lies that ooze out of your mouth!" screamed Andromache.

"Andromache," said Hector, his tone more relaxed. "If you'd just let me explain…-,"

"So you can feed me more lies?" interjected Andromache.

"I said it," said Hector, quietly, "because I meant it, I'd never say something if I didn't mean it. You're the most amazing person I've ever met Andromache, I know we've only known each other for a few short weeks, but it feels like I've known you forever. When you screamed last night, it made me realise how important you are to me. I'm sure that as I learn more about you, I'll love you more, but at this moment I can say that I've never been so certain of anything in my entire life."

Andromache jumped off Hermione and kissed Hector softly. Her eyes softened as he gazed back at her with his chocolate coloured eyes. The defensive walls around Andromache's heart that had already began to crumble down, now fell with one look into Hector's eyes. Her wish had been answered by the gods, and she loved him, more deeply than she could ever express in words alone. Andromache kissed him once more, showing her love to Hector as her kiss sent shivers through his spine.

"I love you Hector," said Andromache, and tears, filled with happiness began to trickle down her cheeks. "Oh Hector, I love you, more than I could ever begin to convey."

Hector picked Andromache up in his arms and swung her around. _You've shown me your love Andromache_, he thought happily.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thank you for the positive reviews, especially after the last chapter, I was worried about it because I thought I might be writing Hector and Andromache being in love too soon, but I think it was the right decision, so thanks for the reviews!

-----

Hector and Andromache lay on the sand together; he gently stroked Andromache's hair and looked out to the sea and she rested her head on his chest.

They had laid there for hours, barely taking, instead they breathed in the late afternoon air and watched as the sun set beyond the sea. Neither of them could remember a time when they had felt such peace with the world, so incredibly content and relaxed.

Andromache looked up to Hector and grinned when she saw him, because she remembered the moment when he expressed his love for her. Never would she forget that moment, she would cherish it in her heart until the day she died.

"What?" asked Hector, and laughed when he saw Andromache's expression.

"I love you so much," said Andromache and planted a kiss on Hector's lips.

Hector took Andromache's face in his strong hands and looked deep within her eyes. It astounded him that she was so beautiful, so perfect. "And I love you."

Andromache rested her head on Hector's chest once more. "I feel like this is all a dream and in a few moments I will wake."

"Then we should make this dream one to remember!" smirked Hector and kissed Andromache.

Andromache laughed and ran her fingers along Hector's back as he pressed her against the sand. She then began to kiss him urgently, loving the taste of Hector's lips against her own. Hector groaned and kissed her repeatedly until darkness fell around them.

"We need to ride back," said Hector and withdrew his lips from Andromache's. He then helped her off her feet and they made their way to the horses.

Andromache managed to mount Hermione herself, without the help of Hector, because he tied a rope to her reins and then mounted his own horse. Hector held onto the robe, as well as his own reins as he rode his horse, he wished to have Andromache close to him as they rode in the dark to the palace.

They finally arrived at the palace, Hector had insisted on trotting home, and he escorted Andromache to the women's chambers. Andromache didn't know her way around the palace, so Hector had said he would show her tomorrow.

"Goodnight, my love," said Hector and kissed Andromache goodnight.

"Must we say goodnight?" asked Andromache, she wasn't ready to sleep.

Hector smiled and stroked Andromache's arm, lovingly. "Are you hungry?"

Andromache hadn't thought about food since breakfast, when she had last eaten. She now realised how hungry she was. "Yes."

Hector laughed and took Andromache's arms. "Well then, my dear Princess, let us go to the kitchens so we can cure your hunger."

Andromache laid her head on Hector's arms while he led her to the kitchens. They were turning around another corner; Andromache had lost count of the amount of corners they had turned, when they knocked into Paris.

"Why are you both looking so pleased?" he asked, curious as to why they both wore cheerful expressions.

"None of your business Paris," said Hector and began walking again.

"Very well," replied Paris, slightly annoyed and began walking in the opposite direction.

Hector continued to lead Andromache to the kitchens, and eventually they reached their destination.

"Here we are," he said and opened the door to the kitchen.

The kitchen was almost exactly like the royal kitchen in Thebe, except items were arranged differently and it was slightly larger. Hector began opening cupboards, looking for something to satisfy his appetite.

"What would you like?" asked Hector, and continued to rifle through the cupboards.

"A kiss," Andromache smirked, and immediately blushed. She had never been so bold in all of her life.

Hector laughed, ending his search for food and striding over to Andromache, were he kissed her passionately.

The door slowly creaked open, Andromache and Hector jumped with fright, but relaxed slightly when they saw who it was … it was Paris.

"By the gods!" cried Paris, grinning from ear to ear. He had followed Andromache and Hector to the kitchens to see what they were doing. "Can neither of you wait until you're married?"

"Paris!" grumbled Hector, and withdrew his arms from around Andromache to usher Paris out of the room.

"Goodnight Andromache," called Paris as he was pushed out of the room.

"Goodnight Paris," laughed Andromache, she was always reminded of her brother Podes when she saw him.

"Where was I?" smirked Hector, and grinned cheekily as he wrapped his arms around Andromache.

"I think you were about to find some food," said Andromache, and concealed a grin.

Hector nodded and soon found some food for them both, by raiding the kitchen cupboards and taking some bread and meat from them. They ate in silence and once they had finished, Hector once again escorted Andromache to the women's quarters before returning to his own chamber.

The heart within Hector nearly leapt out of place when he saw a figure moving in his darkened room. He leant over by the door to withdraw his sword, but it wasn't there.

"Looking for this?" asked a voice and lit the wood in the room to give off light.

Hector strode over to the person. "Paris! Why do you insist on tormenting me tonight?" He then held out his hand to receive his sword, Paris willingly returned it to him and Hector placed it by his bed.

"I'm bored," said Paris, simply. "It's too hot to go into the town in search of women, so I thought I would entertain myself by bothering you."

"Oh Paris!" sighed Hector. "You're nearly eighteen, begin acting your age!"

"No thank you," scowled Paris. "You and Andromache seem to be getting along very well."

"We are," Hector grinned.

"And why is that?" asked Paris.

Hector pondered over Paris' question before answering, he decided to answer truthfully. "Andromache and I love one another."

Paris nearly choked on the saliva he had gathered in his mouth, but then his shocked expression rapidly transformed into a smile. "I'm happy for you both, we all knew it would happen, although not this quickly."

"Who is we?" asked Hector, curiously, and looked up from arranging his robes, to look at his brother.

"Mother, father, Polyxena, me and of course Cassandra … but she claims to know everything," answered Paris. "We could see the bond between you and Andromache, you just needed to see it yourselves."

-----

Andromache stood out on the balcony, dressed in her night robe, and looked out to the sea. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Hector dashing through her mind, so she wasn't able to sleep. The wind breathed cool air onto her face and she sighed happily. Eventually the thoughts in her mind calmed down and she was able to return to her bed, where she slept perfectly.

"Andromache."

Andromache stirred slightly and slowly awoke from her slumber. She was startled to see Xanthe peering over her, and that it was already morning. "What's wrong?"

"Queen Hecuba wishes to have breakfast with you," said Xanthe. "I need to prepare you quickly; she will be expecting you soon."

"Why does she wish to have breakfast with me?" Andromache yawned, and stepped out of her bed and walked over to the chair and mirror, where Xanthe began to tidy Andromache's hair.

"I think she wants to discuss the wedding preparations with you," answered Xanthe, "I think that's what Prince Hector told me."

"Hector was here?" asked Andromache and looked up to Xanthe.

"Well he sent another handmaiden to collect me," said Xanthe, "and he waited outside the women's quarters for me. I don't think he wished to disturb you. I also heard, but by Prince Paris, that you both confessed your love for one another yesterday."

Andromache gasped quietly, but then laughed. "How does Paris know?"

"I didn't ask," replied Xanthe, while she pinned the few remaining curls of Andromache's hair into place.

Xanthe quickly finished Andromache's hair and then helped her into a light blue peplos. Once she had completed her task, she stepped backwards and looked at Andromache, and smiled. "You look fantastic!"

"Thank you Xanthe," said Andromache. "Where will the Queen be?"

"I believe Prince Hector said she would be in her chambers," replied Xanthe. "I'm to escort you there; I know the way because I was shown around the palace yesterday."

Andromache nodded and followed as Xanthe led her out of the women's quarters and down numerous hallways before she halted outside a highly decorated door.

"This is Queen Hecuba's room," said Xanthe, and said goodbye to Andromache before leaving.

Andromache knocked on the door and was instructed to enter. She slowly walked into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. As she stepped deeper into the room, she saw Hecuba already sitting at a table that was filled with food. Hecuba gestured for Andromache to sit down.

"I've no need to ask why you're so happy," said Hecuba, and smiled kindly.

Andromache blushed heavily, and sat down opposite the Queen.

"There's no need to be embarrassed my child," said Hecuba. "I remember when Priam professed his love for me; I couldn't stop smiling for days."

"I just want to laugh every time I recall how Hector told me," said Andromache and laughed. "Your son is a wonderful man."

"Thank you Andromache," said Hecuba and patted Andromache's hand. "I'm very happy that you're marrying Hector."

"I am also," said Andromache, "I couldn't have imagined a better man."

"I thought the same way when I married Priam," said Hecuba. "Well, let us eat this splendid food and then we can discuss the wedding."

They ate in silence, and only once they had finished, Hecuba turned their talk to the wedding.

"In five days you will marry," said Hecuba, "and tomorrow we'll begin making your wedding gown. The wedding gown doesn't usually take too long to make, so it should be completed two days before your wedding."

"Thank you," said Andromache.

Hecuba nodded. "Are you nervous about the wedding night?"

Andromache was silent for a moment while she pondered Hecuba's question. The wedding night hadn't even crossed her mind since she had arrived in Troy, but now that she did think of it, she suddenly grew nervous. "I hadn't thought about it, but now that I do … well yes, I'm terribly nervous."

Hecuba again patted Andromache's hand. "It'll be alright dear. I was so nervous; I was on the verge of tears all day. Hector is a good man Andromache, he'll be gentle."

Andromache nodded slowly, she knew what Hecuba said was true, but nerves still raced around her body. "Of course he will, but I don't know what to do … how will I know?" She felt so panicked that she didn't care how foolish she might appear to her future mother-in-law.

"Hector knows what to do as he's been with other women," said Hecuba, but then immediately wished to retract her words. "I'm sorry Andromache, I said that wrongly."

"No," said Andromache, her mind filling with even more thoughts, "of course Hector has been with other … _other women_, he'll know what to do."

"Andromache," said Hecuba, sadly, "he may have been with other women, all men have, but he has never loved another woman,_ never_."

Andromache again nodded, knowing that he hadn't loved another woman before was of some comfort to her, but it still didn't remove the flow of thoughts gushing through her mind. She tried to imagine Hector ever being with another woman, ever having kissed another woman and suddenly grew nauseous.

"My Queen, if that's all then may I please retire to my chamber?" asked Andromache, she knew she was overacting, but she could feel sickness swimming up her throat and needed to leave.

"Of course," said Hecuba and stood up to escort her to the door, she was slightly worried because Andromache had suddenly turned very pale.

Andromache fled from the room, running down various hallways, not knowing where she was going. She saw the gardens and knew that by crossing them, she could somehow find her way to the women's quarters.

"Andromache!" yelled Paris, who was walking around the gardens and happened to see his future sister-in-law.

Hearing her name being called, Andromache suddenly stopped running and turned to see Paris, not too far away. She vigorously shook her head, knowing that if she opened her mouth, sickness would flood out.

"Andromache, what's wrong?" asked Paris and walked up to her.

She couldn't contain it any longer, Andromache opened her mouth and sick came gushing out.

Paris quickly darted a step away to avoid being plastered with sick. He then dashed to Andromache's side and pulled a few strands of loose hair from her eyes, and began rubbing her back in gentle motions.

Andromache then straightened her back, and realised tears were slowly trickling down her face. She looked to the sick on the floor and groaned heavily, and then she noticed Paris and smiled gently towards him.

"Thank you," she said, "for comforting me instead of fleeing at the sight of vomit."

"It was nothing," replied Paris, casually and eyed the sick on the ground, "don't worry, I'll call someone to clear this up."

"No," moaned Andromache, "I'll clean it; I was the one who caused it."

Paris laughed. "Oh Andromache, you poor thing, were you never taught to use servants at all times?"

Andromache scowled at Paris, but knew he was merely teasing her.

"Now, I'll escort you to the women's quarters where you can rest in your chamber," said Paris and took Andromache's hand, "and you can tell me, on the way, why you insisted on vomiting in Troy's royal gardens."

Andromache nodded, allowing Paris to take her hand. They made their way into the palace, after Paris instructed for a servant to clean the sick in the gardens.

"So, why were you sick?" inquired Paris, as they walked to the women's quarters.

"I succumbed to nerves," answered Andromache, a ferocious headache brewing in her head.

"What nerves?" asked Paris, curiously.

"Nerves about the wedding night," murmured Andromache, she didn't have enough energy to think of another reason to feed Paris, so told him the truth.

"Ah," said Paris, suddenly understanding perfectly. "You've nothing to worry about; Hector is a kind man and will treat you well."

"I know he will," sighed Andromache, "but still … I can't help but feel nervous, what if I'm not what he's used to?"

Paris groaned inwardly, he had never expected having this type of conversion when he greeted Andromache, but she was a dear friend to him and so decided to aid her with some wisdom he had gained after bedding many women. "Hector loves you; he's never loved another woman and doesn't bed different women every night, he isn't like me. Making love is different for everyone, I've been with countless amounts of women and it was always different. Hector loves you; you love him so your wedding night will be spectacular."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: The wedding between Hector and Andromache will be in the next chapter, I will of course mention the wedding night in the next chapter. Thank you for the reviews! :)

-----

Andromache slowly lay down on her bed; she feared moving, because every time she did, she was suddenly reminded of her horrendous headache. She closed her eyes slowly and drifted off to sleep.

----

Paris began walking away from the women's quarters, as he did, he saw Hector walking towards him, obviously wishing to see Andromache.

"Good morning Paris," said Hector, cheerfully.

"Good morning," replied Paris. "Andromache is not feeling well; she's retired to her chamber for some rest."

Hector stopped walking, a few feet away from his brother. "Is she alright?"

Paris walked the remaining few feet to his brother and brought his arm around him. "She will be, although she did vomit in the royal gardens. I think she is suddenly feeling nervous about the wedding night."

"The wedding night?" stuttered Hector.

"Let Andromache rest," said Paris, removing his arm from around his brother. "You can have lunch with her; she'll probably feel better then."

Hector nodded. He certainly hadn't expected to be greeted by Paris when he went to see Andromache, nor had he expected to be told that she was nervous about the wedding night. It was natural for both partners to be worried about the wedding night, however, Hector only worried about Andromache and how she felt about it.

Paris then said goodbye to his brother and went in search of some female company. Being a Prince of Troy, Paris was never denied the attentions of a woman. Paris could feel himself becoming bored with bedding random women, whenever he pleased. He looked at the bond between Andromache and Hector, and envied them; he wished to have someone he could love, just like his brother did.

Hector decided to follow his brother's advice in leaving Andromache to rest; instead he decided to speak with his father. He needed advice from a man that had experienced the nerves of a wedding night, and who better than his own father?

Slowly Hector walked to his father's chambers and knocked loudly on it. A male servant of his father answered and Hector stepped into the room, he saw his father looking out to his balcony. The servant quickly departed, leaving the King and Prince alone.

"Is Andromache alright?" asked Priam, sensing his son's presence without even looking away from the sea.

"I believe so, father," answered Hector. "How did you-,"

"Your mother told me," said Priam, and turned to face his son and smiled. "I'm very happy for you and Andromache, so is your mother. Now, I know you wish to ask me something, so please ask."

"I wished to ask you about the wedding night," said Hector, slightly embarrassed, "were you ever nervous, was mother?"

Priam motioned for Hector to come and sit beside him on his bed. "On the day of our wedding, every time I looked at your mother she would turn away from me, I could tell she was on the verge of tears all day. Your mother's nerves only made mine ten times larger, but when the time came, all was well."

Hector nodded, all would be well with him and Andromache when the time came, it was just reaching that time, which was difficult. "Thank you father, I'll leave you now." He then left and made his way to the stables, wishing to find some comfort by being with his horses.

Quickly, Hector reached the royal stables. He immediately went to see his beloved horse: Hermione. Before Andromache, Hector had never trusted anyone else to ride her, but he trusted Andromache with many things, especially his horses. Hermione stood in her stall, her head hanging over the wooden gate; he walked over to her and stroked her mane. Hector began to tell Hermione what had happened over the past few days, he found it relaxing to talk to her. Somehow he felt that she could understand, even though she could never respond to him, except with a neigh.

"Are you always in the habit of talking to your horses?" asked a voice.

Hector spun around to see the speaker, he already knew that voice, it was Andromache. "I thought you were resting."

"I was," grinned Andromache, "but then I awoke, and presumed you to be here. It took me a while to find this place, but I managed."

"I was supposed to show you the palace," said Hector and walked up to Andromache, "would you like me to now?"

"I would love you to," answered Andromache, her headache had ceased and her nerves were calming down rapidly, just by being near Hector.

Hector nodded and guided Andromache around the palace. She tried to remember everything he had shown her, so she could find her own way around the palace in future. Finally, when Hector had shown Andromache the palace, he took her to the city walls, wishing to save the greatest view till last. He led her up the stone steps, holding her hand tightly as it was extremely high above the solid ground.

Andromache sighed happily as she stepped onto the walls. She went to the edge, clasping onto the wall, and looked out at the great plain, the beaches and then the sea in the distance. _What did I ever do_, she thought, _to be awarded with such views, and to be with a man I love?_

"I love it," she said, and then Andromache noticed some chairs built into the wall. "What are the chairs for?"

"They are for my family to sit here and watch the army train," said Hector. "But they are also used when there is war, for my family to watch the many battles each day."

"It's hard to imagine war ever commencing in such a beautiful place," sighed Andromache.

"It is," agreed Hector, and then took Andromache in his arms, "but war has not come to Troy for many years."

Andromache nodded and buried her head in Hector's arms. She would remember this time in years to come, this time when she was naïve in thinking that war would never come to Troy.

Hector and Andromache returned to the palace, where they ate lunch happily. Afterwards, Hector decided to return to the stables, but Andromache felt the day too hot to spend much time outdoors and so returned to the women's quarters.

"Good afternoon Andromache," said a voice.

Andromache closed the door to the quarters, and turned to see Cassandra sitting on chair, watching her. "Good afternoon."

"Sit with me," said Cassandra, she then patted the chair beside her for Andromache to sit on.

Andromache did as she was asked, she had heard Cassandra was an extremely lovely Princess on closer acquaintance, and Andromache hoped this to be true.

"I don't wish to make your nervous," said Cassandra, sensing Andromache's feelings. "You've no doubt heard stories of me being a seeress; I just wished to tell you that you don't have any reason to fear me. I'll soon be your sister-in-law, and I feel certain that we'll be very great friends."

"I hope we will," said Andromache, truthfully.

Cassandra laughed. "I imagine Hector is with his horses?"

Andromache nodded and smirked slightly. "Of course, where else would the tamer of horses be?"

"Hector would always disappear when he was a little boy and hide away in the stables," said Cassandra, and smiled as she recalled the memory, "my mother would go frantic while she searched for him. He'd spend all day there, helping the stable hands with the horses, and then when he was eight my parent's gave him his first horse, he couldn't be parted from it."

Andromache laughed, she could clearly picture what Cassandra had told her. "Do you share your brother's passion for horses?"

"I've never been able to bond well with horses," said Cassandra. "Hector's expertise is with horses, Paris' are with women, Polyxena's are with people, and mine is with the gods."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, I really do love to read them so thank you! :) Oh and don't worry, Cassandra won't tell Andromache that her marriage is doomed :)

-----

Andromache twirled around in her wedding gown, in front of Hecuba, Polyxena and Cassandra. They beamed at Andromache, knowing that she looked positively beautiful.

Today Princess Andromache of Thebe would finally marry Prince Hector of Troy. The last few days had been incredibly hectic for Andromache, so she had seen very little of Hector, but she presumed him to be busy also.

Hecuba had thought that the wedding gown would be finished two days prior to the wedding, but it had only been completed the night before because the correct material for the wedding gown hadn't been available when planned.

Now everything was perfectly organised, and Andromache felt some weight begin to lift from off her shoulders. Earlier that morning, Andromache had her nuptial bath; water had been brought from a river nearby. It was thought that the bath would purify the bride and induce fertility.

Hecuba stood up off Andromache's bed, with a veil in her hands, and walked over to her. She carefully placed the veil on Andromache, the veil that symbolized her virginity; it would not be removed until she was claimed by Hector.

Tears began to flicker over Andromache's eyes, as she remembered her life in Thebe. Life in Thebe had been so simple for her, but now she was going to be a _wife_, and in time she'd be expected to become a mother. She loved Hector, there was no doubt in her heart, but Andromache still felt nervous about leaving the path of maiden hood and becoming a woman.

It was time, Andromache could hear voices gathering outside the women's quarters, and she was suddenly welcomed with the same butterflies in her stomach that she had felt on the day Hector had arrived to collect her in Thebe.

"Are you ready?" asked Hecuba, and smiled to reassure Andromache.

Andromache nodded.

Polyxena and Cassandra left the room quickly. Hecuba then led the way out of the women's quarters, Andromache following behind. Guards threw open the doors to the women's quarters, and Hecuba and Andromache stepped out of them. A crowd of Hector's female relatives were gathered outside the quarters and cheered happily.

-----

Hector looked to his bed, in his chamber. He had never imagined sharing it with someone for the rest of his life, but now … now he would be. A strange, feeling exploded within, when he thought of waking next to Andromache each day, he was looking forward to it.

"Are you ready, Hector?" asked Priam, who stood in Hector's chambers, as did Paris.

"Yes," answered Hector and smiled.

Priam stepped over to Hector and embraced him. "You'll be very happy."

Hector was the first to be married of Priam's children; Priam hoped that he wouldn't be the last. However, as the years passed by, no other child of Priam ever married … although they may have fell in love.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Hector married," laughed Paris.

"I did," said Priam, proudly.

Hector had always been Priam's favourite son. In Priam's eyes Hector was the perfect son, he was a warrior, an honourable Prince, and soon he would be a husband.

"Now that you're ready," said Priam, to Hector, "let us greet your bride."

The male relatives and friends of Hector would follow him, from his chambers, to the main palace balcony, where he would meet Andromache. Andromache would be followed by female relatives of the Trojan Royal family, a family she would soon be part of. She would then meet Hector at the main balcony, where Hector would claim her as his wife, in front of the Trojan people.

Once Hector had claimed Andromache as his wife, they would then make sacrifices to the gods, in hopes of being blessed in marriage. After the sacrifices had been made, Hector would take Andromache to the dinning hall where the wedding feast would be held.

Priam ushered Hector out of his chamber. Hector's male relatives and friends, who had gathered outside his room, cheered as he left his chambers. He laughed and embraced a few of them.

Hector began the walk to the main balcony. He was slightly nervous at the thought of greeting Andromache in front of hundreds of Trojans, but it was a tradition so he'd have to push his nerves aside.

Leading the way to the balcony, Hector began to hear the joyful cries of Trojans from outside the palace. He turned to look at his father, for reassurance, but Priam was talking to Paris. Hector was alone in this, and he would be until he met Andromache.

In the distance, the sight of women caught Hector's eyes. He knew this was Andromache and his female relatives. Hector grinded to a halt by the balcony, while he waited for Andromache.

Hector gasped aloud as he saw Andromache, who quickly walked to his side. She looked beautiful, so pure … so innocent that Hector could scarcely breathe.

Andromache took Hector's arm, and noticed that he wasn't shaking, unlike her. Her hands shook, and had began when she heard the cries of happy Trojans outside the palace.

Hector and Andromache stepped out onto the balcony. Cheers erupted from the Trojans, accompanied with clapping and tears of joy from Hector's family and friends.

"Trojans," greeted Hector, suddenly donning the loud voice he used in battle, "in front of you, as my witnesses, I hereby claim Princess Andromache of Thebe, as my wife!"

The crowd cheered loudly and watched as Hector removed Andromache's veil and kissed her softly. King Priam handed his son a golden laurel leafed crown, and Hector carefully placed it on Andromache's head. The crowd cheered once more as they looked upon Prince Hector and Princess Andromache.

"I love you," whispered Hector, before he kissed her once more.

"I love you too," replied Andromache, and fought off tears of happiness.

Hector and Andromache, as husband and wife, made sacrifices to the gods, and then made their way to the wedding feast.

Hector helped Andromache to her chair, next to his, before sitting in his own.

Priam immediately stood as soon as all the relatives and friends had entered the hall, and then he called for silence. "Welcome my friends to this feast in honour of the marriage between Prince Hector and Princess Andromache. Hector has been a wonderful son to Queen Hecuba and me, and will be a loving husband to Princess Andromache, who is equally wonderful. Now please join me in raising your goblets to Prince Hector and Princess Andromache."

They all raised their goblets to Hector and Andromache, and then drank from them.

Priam sat in his chair, once more.

"How do you feel?" asked Hector, and eyed his wife. He felt an odd sensation ripple down his spine when he thought of Andromache as his wife; he could never have imagined a better woman to spend the rest of his life with.

"Good," replied Andromache, "and you?"

"Very well, my love," said Hector.

Hector and Andromache ate the splendid food that had been brought to them. After more food had been brought out to satisfy the guest's stomachs, dancers came into the hall.

Andromache had always felt pity towards the dancing girls, they were little more than slaves, she thought, who were commanded to dance at feasts to please the men. No matter how much they smiled, she knew that inside their souls were screaming to be free.

All too quickly the time had come for the feast to end, and for Andromache and Hector to leave to his chamber.

They were led to Hector's chamber by women who chanted, it was thought that the chanting would calm the bride's nerves. Hector and Andromache walked in between the changing women, alone. The rest of the guests would depart to their own homes or chambers within the palace. As soon as Hector and Andromache had reached his chamber, the chanting women left the halls.

Hector opened the door to his room and gestured for Andromache to enter, and she did.

Andromache glanced around the room; she saw a few of Hector's robes hanging over a chair, and his armor shimmering in a corner of the room. A balcony revealed a view of the royal gardens, and then the sea that lay behind in the distance. She looked to his bed, the bed that she would share with Hector that night and for the rest of their married life.

Hector watched Andromache as she looked around _their _room. A loom would be brought into the chamber tomorrow, as well as the rest of Andromache's things that hadn't already been brought from the women's quarters. He noticed the stilled silence that ensued since they entered the room, he wished to break it, but didn't know what to say.

"Is there some water here?" asked Andromache, suddenly feeling extremely parched.

"Of course," said Hector and went to the stone block beside his bed, which held a jug of water and a cup. _I'll need to get another cup_, he thought. Carefully Hector poured some water into the cup before handing it to Andromache.

Andromache took the cup and thanked him before drinking. She immediately felt refreshed and shivered slightly as she felt the water trickle down her throat.

Slowly, Hector stepped nearer to Andromache, she knew why and her heart suddenly raced faster. He leaned to kiss her, but tripped over the sheet from his bed which hung off the bed. He grabbed onto Andromache to stop himself from falling, but that only caused her to fall with him.

Andromache fell on her back and groaned loudly. Hector fell beside her and landed on his side. He looked at Andromache to see if she was alright, but was shocked to see that she was laughing, he had almost expected her to be crying.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Andromache nodded and tried to stifle her laughter, but didn't succeed. She then turned over to Hector and kissed him softly. "I love you Hector."

Andromache then lay down on the bed and watched as Hector stood up off the floor and lay next to her.

Hector searched within Andromache's eyes, he cupped her face in his hands and could clearly see how vulnerable she was. No jewels or veils hid her face, instead she was pure … a pure beauty. He softly traced his finger down her cheek.

Thoughts of Hector being with other women instantly gushed through her mind. She wondered if other women had lain where she did now. Tears drizzled down Andromache's cheeks; she couldn't restrain them in her eyes any longer.

Hector looked up to Andromache's eyes and wiped away her tears. A concerned expression widened across his face. "What is it?"

Andromache shook her head vigorously, choosing to not answer her husband, and instead she kissed him. She heard him groan quietly. Hector kissed her neck, which caused her to release more tears.

"Andromache, please my love, tell me what's wrong," said Hector and looked up to his wife once more.

"I … I … I worry that I'm … that I won't be what you're … used to," cried Andromache, and allowed more tears to escape.

Hector smiled kindly and brushed the tears off Andromache's cheeks. "Of course you won't be, because I love you Andromache."

Andromache smiled and kissed Hector. "I love you."

Hector distinguished the light in the room and pulled his wedding robe off, and then he lay down next to Andromache and kissed her once more. She blushed heavily at first when she saw Hector undressed, but then unclasped her own wedding gown and dropped it to the floor. His hands began to roam Andromache's body, and he felt her shiver with delight.

Carefully Hector leant over Andromache; he didn't want to startle her. His eyes wandered over her body briefly, but then he kissed her soft lips once more.

That night Hector made Andromache his wife and took her from the path of maidens, and led her to the path of women.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I decided to call Hector's horse Helenus, mainly because I couldn't think of any other name, but I know that Helenus was a son of Priam (he eventually married Andromache). Anyway, I just wanted to add that in case anyone wondered.

Thank you for the reviews! I'm sorry that chapter 12 wasn't viewable to you TroyLives4Ever, hopefully it will be now.

------

Hector awoke later than usual, he was naturally an early riser, and saw that Andromache still lay on his chest. She looked so peaceful while she slept. He smiled upon remembering making love to his wife; it now felt so natural to call Andromache his wife … his love.

Usually Hector would rise early and tend to his horses before breakfast, but he looked down at Andromache and decided to remain in bed, and savor this moment.

After an hour or so, Andromache began to wake. She groaned quietly, because the sun was shinning into the chamber and directly into her eyes. She looked up at Hector's face and smiled.

"Good morning, my love," said Hector and kissed Andromache, softly.

"Good morning," beamed Andromache. She suddenly realised that she and Hector were both naked, and she blushed slightly, but then she remembered the previous night and the blush faded. Andromache was now a woman, and a wife, therefore felt no need in blushing at such a fact.

"What would you like for breakfast?" asked Hector, and then stepped out of the bed and quickly dressed in a simple blue robe. Andromache grinned as she watched him; she couldn't help but again remember making love with her husband.

Now all doubt had faded from Andromache's mind, the wedding night had been spectacular, just like Paris had told her, and she couldn't dream of being with any other man but Hector.

"Must we have food now?" smirked Andromache. "It's barely morning."

Hector laughed and walked over to Andromache and kissed her passionately. "What else would you like to do?" They both knew what each other thought, so they made love, once more.

-----

It wasn't until noon that Hector and Andromache finally emerged from their chambers, looking slightly flushed. Hector went to the stables, he asked Andromache to join him and she happily accepted.

As they made their way to the stables, they both suddenly spotted Paris, who was unaware of his brother and sister-in-law, and that he was with a temple maid. Hector sighed and steered Andromache down another hall, also leading to the stables, so they wouldn't have to go by Paris.

"I doubt he'll ever grow up," Hector sighed.

"I think he will," said Andromache, confidently. "Paris is still young; he'll grow when he's ready."

"You like Paris, don't you?" said Hector and smiled. He knew it was hard to dislike Paris.

"Of course," replied Andromache. "He reminds me of my brother, Podes. Paris may have faults, but we all do."

Hector nodded in agreement. "What is one of your faults?"

"I tend to worry too much," said Andromache, after taking a moment to ponder over Hector's question. "What is one of your faults?"

"I can be very stubborn," said Hector.

"I'm sure I'll notice that trait soon," grinned Andromache, and Hector laughed.

They eventually arrived at the stables, Andromache waited while Hector brought the horses from their stalls.

"You don't have a horse of your own here, yet," said Hector, as he brought Hermione out of her stall, "and seeing as you and Hermione bonded so well when you last rode her, I thought you'd like to have her."

"Oh Hector, thank you!" cried Andromache, happily. She then kissed her husband softly before mounting her new horse. Hector then collected another horse that his wife hadn't seen before, although that was to be expected as there were so many stalls with horses in them.

"This is Helenus," said Hector, and patted the horse he had brought out. Helenus was a gorgeous horse; he was completely black and was untouched by scars. Hector mounted his horse and turned to Andromache. "Where would you like to go?"

"The beach?" suggested Andromache; she knew no other place in Troy at the present time. She would always associate the beach with Hector and herself because that was where they had declared their love for one another.

"An excellent choice," said Hector.

Hector and Andromache left the stables and the walls of Troy. They galloped across the plain and reached their destination quickly. After dismounting their horses, they lay on the sand together.

"Do you know how to swim?" asked Hector.

Andromache nodded. "Yes, my brothers taught me how."

"Would you like to swim now?" asked Hector, and grinned widely.

"Now?" repeated Andromache and lifted her head off her husband's chest, so she could look at him. "Hector it isn't proper, not here at least. If anyone were to come-,"

"If anyone saw us," interrupted Hector, "then all they would see is two people swimming."

"We aren't wearing the correct attire," said Andromache, she didn't wish to be caught swimming, which was considered improper to some people, especially when she had only recently arrived in Troy.

"We are wearing simple robes," said Hector, and then smiled cheekily, "you don't have to wear your robe…"

"Hector!" gasped Andromache, but then laughed.

Hector stood onto his feet and then helped Andromache onto hers. He picked Andromache up into his arms and carried her to the water, only then did he put her down.

Andromache was expecting the water to be freezing cold, the weather wasn't as hot today as it had been on the previous days, but it was fairly warm which contented her. Hector swam over to his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist. She rested her head on his chest and they swayed together with the gentle motion of the sea.

"If I had been told, years ago, that I'd marry a handsome Prince in Troy," said Andromache, "I'd never have believed them."

"If I were told I was going to marry a beautiful Princess from Thebe," smirked Hector, "I wouldn't have believed them."

"Do you think our families knew we would be happy?" asked Andromache, curiously.

"I do," said Hector, and remembered what Paris had told him a few days ago. "My family certainly did, and I'm sure your family did also. Your family wouldn't have parted with you if they knew you wouldn't be happy."

Andromache nodded. "I miss my family, especially my mother. I wish I could see them and tell them how much they mean to me. They were all dear to me, but being apart from them as shown me how dear they were."

"I wish you could see your family too," said Hector, "and if I could take you then I would."

"I know you would Hector," said Andromache and kissed her husband, "but such a voyage is impractical. Many other women have been parted from their families and managed, I will also, especially as I'm married to a wonderful man that I love."

Hector smiled and kissed Andromache.

As the afternoon drew on, the water became colder. Hector and Andromache returned to the sand, and sat on the there while they waited for their robes to dry before returning to the palace.

"Do you often spend time away from Troy, to fight?" asked Andromache.

"The time varies, but yes I'm often away fighting," replied Hector. "However, over recent years I've spent less time away, so hopefully that will continue."

"Do you know when you'll leave again?" asked Andromache, she was slightly saddened at the thought of Hector leaving, especially at the thought of him leaving to go to battle.

Hector shook his head. "I rarely know in advance, but if I ever have to fight away from Troy, you'll be the first to know."

"Thank you," said Andromache, and then cuddled up next to her husband. "Do you think war will ever come to Troy?"

"I hope not," sighed Hector, "but I don't know if war will come to Troy, only time will tell."

Andromache nodded in agreement. "I often heard my brothers talk of battle, they'd always stop when they saw me listening, they thought my ears were too delicate to hear such things."

"Your ears are too delicate," said Hector, "no woman should listen to tales of war. It's getting cold now, lets return to the palace." Hector then stood on his feet, and helped Andromache onto her own. They mounted their horses and returned to the palace.

When they entered their chamber, they saw that a loom had been brought into the room, as well as the rest of Andromache's things. She sighed happily. _I'll be very happy here_, she thought.


	14. Chapter 14

The first few months of married life, between Andromache and Hector, passed by happily for them. Hector had begun training with the army; Andromache was unaware as to why, but thought this to be perfectly normal as she hadn't heard whispers of war from the servants. And Andromache was kept busy at her loom, but often strayed out to the royal gardens and enjoyed an afternoon with Polyxena or Cassandra.

One afternoon, while Hector still remained outside Troy's walls and trained with the army, Polyxena visited Andromache.

"May I sit with you?" asked Polyxena. She startled Andromache, with her sudden appearance, who was engrossed in her work.

"Of course," said Andromache and stood up from her loom, "you never need ask."

"Thank you," said Polyxena.

Andromache looked at her sister-in-law and noticed that she looked quite pale. She walked over to Polyxena, and motioned for her to sit with her at the table in the room. "Are you alright Polyxena?"

Polyxena nodded her head, and succeeded in smiling. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you. How're you?"

"I'm well," said Andromache, still worried about her friend. Over the months since Andromache had arrived in Troy, Polyxena and herself had became very close friends. Polyxena usually told Andromache anything that troubled her mind, without hesitation, but that was obviously not the case today.

The door to Andromache and Hector's chamber opened, Hector stepped into the room, still wearing his armor, and appeared to be immersed within his own thoughts. He didn't realise that his sister was there at first, but then he heard her speak and quickly tore himself away from his thoughts.

"Polyxena?" said Hector, which caused his wife and sister to jump with fright. "I don't usually see you here, how're you?"

"Very well, thank you Hector," said Polyxena, and stood up from the table. "Thank you for your time Andromache, I'll leave you both now, goodnight." She then left the room.

"Is she alright?" asked Hector, and placed his sword beside his bed.

"I hope so," said Andromache, slightly bewildered by Polyxena's behavior.

Hector nodded and carefully removed his armor, placing it in the corner of the room. He then straightened his back and stepped over to his wife, who was now standing by the balcony. "Andromache, there's something I need to tell you."

"Yes, what's that?" asked Andromache, starting to worry.

"The army is being sent to the East," said Hector, "I leave with them in three days time. We've received word that our ally in the East is going to be attacked, so it's our duty to help them."

"The East?" murmured Andromache, she knew that there was only one ally of Troy's in the East and that was Thebe. "_Thebe_ … Thebe is going to be attacked?"

Hector nodded, sadly. "Achilles and his Myrmidons plan to attack Thebe soon."

Andromache cried aloud and steadied herself on Hector's arm. "Thebe … my home, _my family_ … they'll be attacked?"

"Troy's army will sail to Thebe and protect it," reassured Hector and held his wife in his arms.

"You'll not get to Thebe in time!" cried Andromache, and tears began to escape her eyes. "It takes weeks to sail there, and with an army!?"

"Achilles doesn't plan to attack until a month from now," said Hector, "and he doesn't know that Troy's army is sailing to Thebe. We'll get there in time."

"Let me come with you," said Andromache, suddenly.

"No, Andromache …," stuttered Hector, shocked by her question. "I'm your husband, I'm to protect you, taking you to war is dangerous, I'm not going to risk your life also."

"You said that if you could take me to Thebe then you would!" sobbed Andromache. "You're going to Thebe, so take me!"

"Andromache!" said Hector, sternly. "You're not going to Thebe."

Andromache tore herself from Hector's arms, she then grabbed her cloak which lay on their bed and made to leave the chamber, but Hector's hand suddenly pulled her back.

"Where are you going?" he asked, trying to remain calm as he could see the torment Andromache felt and he didn't wish to add to it.

Andromache snatched her arm from Hector's and fled from the chamber. She heard Hector follow her, but she ran down the hall.

"Andromache!" shouted Hector, but then sighed heavily and returned to his chamber, he knew his wife would return, and that she needed time alone.

Andromache continued to run down the halls, but when she heard the footsteps of Hector fade, she turned around and saw that he had returned to their chamber. She stopped and caught her breath before walking down the halls and to the stables. She decided to ride Hermione.

It was also improper for women to ride alone in Troy, like it had been in Thebe. However, Andromache needed the comfort she received from riding, and didn't care about proper etiquette that evening.

When she reached Hermione's stall in the stables, she quickly put on her cloak and pulled the hood onto her head. She wasn't wearing her crown this evening, and never did wear it except for special occasions within the palace. Andromache quickly prepared Hermione for riding and was about to lead her out of the stalls when she heard movement outside of it.

"Princess Andromache?" asked a small voice, it was the stable boy that often cared for Hermione.

"It is me, Isus. I'm going to ride Hermione for a while; I'll put her back in the stall when I return." Said Andromache, and led Hermione out of her stall and greeted the stable boy: Isus.

The stable boy nodded and quickly left.

When the boy had left, Andromache mounted her horse and wiped away her tears, though inside she was still crying softly at the thought of her homeland and family being attacked. She decided to ride to the beach, the place she found most peaceful, but knew that getting there would be difficult because she would have to pass through Troy's gates, which were heavily guarded at night.

Andromache trotted through the citadel and eventually arrived at Troy's gates. She sighed as she looked at the gates of Troy and finally realised what she was doing. Andromache knew that running away from Hector had been wrong and that he didn't deserve such behaviour from her, but she didn't turn back.

"Where are you going, madam?" asked one of the many guards at the gate.

"To Apollo's temple," said Andromache, the words had suddenly come to her, Apollo's temple was on the beach, and she knew that women were allowed to go there alone.

The guard looked at Andromache with a peculiar expression, but he certainly didn't recognise her to be a Princess of Troy. He ordered for the gates to be opened and Andromache muttered words of gratitude before trotting through them.

Hermione galloped over the plains, and Andromache shivered slightly because the night air was bitterly cold and whipped across her skin. She looked up to the sky and smiled, the stars were shinning brightly tonight, they hadn't been visible to her eyes for days.

Once she had reached the beach she dismounted Hermione and then sat on the sand. Andromache felt miserable to be here without Hector, especially when she hadn't informed him of where she was going. She pulled the cloak off her head and breathed in the night air, she smiled as the wind tossed her loose hair.

Suddenly Andromache saw a figure approach her, her body tensed and she fought the urge to run to her horse and ride away. But as the figure approached her, she saw that it was a man, and there was something that intrigued Andromache about him, especially about how he looked at her.

At first he looked at her with a shocked expression, but it swiftly altered into a slight smile. She scanned his body and supposed him to be a man of some wealth, he was clothed in the finest robes she had seen for purchase in Troy's marketplace, and wore a few gold rings. He was strikingly handsome, with bright green eyes that seemed to be gleaming under the night sky, and appeared to be only a year or two older than Andromache.

The man smiled broadly when he reached Andromache, and then he sat down beside her. Andromache was unaware of what to do; she had failed to run away as soon as she saw him.

"It's a lovely night," said the man, and turned to look at Andromache.

"It is," replied Andromache.

"I'm Alexander," he said, "and you are?"

Andromache sat silent for a moment, she didn't know how to reply to this man, she knew that she shouldn't tell this man her name in case he recognised it, but yet she told him. "Andromache."

"Andromache?" said Alexander, slightly shocked. He knew who she was immediately, he had heard of Princess Andromache and how she had recently arrived in Troy to marry Prince Hector. "And what are you doing on this beach without your husband?"

"I wished to have time alone," murmured Andromache, inwardly scolding herself for revealing her name to a stranger, especially now that he recognised her.

"Ah, well perhaps I should leave you," said Alexander and stood up to leave.

"You're welcome to stay," said Andromache, quietly, "like you said, it's a lovely night and I wouldn't wish to deprive you of the fantastic view."

Alexander smiled and sat back down on the sand, although this time he moved closer to Andromache, but she didn't notice. "Thank you Princess Andromache."

Andromache nodded and continued to look out across the sea, but then turned to speak with Alexander. "Why are you here? It's uncommon for anyone to come to this part of the beach, especially at night."

"I've recently returned to Troy from the south," answered Alexander, "I've always loved the view of the sea from here, so I decided to come, but I didn't expect a Princess to be here. How is married life with Prince Hector?"

"Very agreeable," replied Andromache, although she was slightly puzzled by his question, "I'm very happy."

"If that's true, then why are you here alone?" said Alexander and turned to watch Andromache.

"I needed time away from the palace," stuttered Andromache, and reddened slightly. "Hector and I had argued and I … left." She didn't understand why she allowed herself to speak so freely to this man, other than the fact that she felt herself at ease around him.

"Does Prince Hector know you're here?" asked Alexander.

"No," said Andromache.

"He's probably worried," said Alexander, "I would be if my beautiful wife had left my chamber at night."

Andromache smiled, but suddenly felt horrified at doing so; she didn't wish to encourage his kind words. "He knows I'll return."

"Hector does have the tendency of knowing everything," said Alexander, almost bitterly, which caused Andromache to flinch slightly.

"You know him?" asked Andromache, and was slightly annoyed that this man had called her husband by his first name only, instead of using his proper title.

"Yes," said Alexander, "I'm a friend of his. I would have attended your wedding to Hector, but I was abroad at the time."

Andromache remained silent, she felt so foolish for speaking like she had, and regretted her decision to ride to the beach. She wished to strike herself for acting so improper, especially to a friend of Hector's. "It was very nice meeting you Alexander, but I must return to the palace."

Alexander nodded and stood to his feet, like Andromache did. "I won't tell your husband that you were here, so please don't worry."

"I won't," said Andromache, growing more annoyed. "I never expressed a wish for you to conceal this evening from my husband."

"I know," said Alexander, "but I can tell that you don't want Hector to know."

Andromache scowled, she hadn't even thought about explaining where she had been to Hector, but now that she did, she realised that she wouldn't have told him, in fear of him being even angrier with her. Earlier thoughts of being intrigued by this man quickly faded from her mind, at first she was merely curious about why he had looked at her so strangely, but now she didn't care.

Slowly Andromache lifted her head to look at Alexander, but saw that he had already began walking away. She quickly hurried over to Hermione and mounted her, then rode back to the palace. Andromache returned Hermione to her stall and fed her some fruit, to show her appreciation to her horse for being so well behaved, and then returned to her chamber.

-----

A/N: Don't worry, Andromache won't fall in love with Alexander or have an affair with him, just in case anyone was wondering :) Thank you for the reviews! :)


	15. Chapter 15

As Andromache returned from the stables, she entered her chamber and saw that Hector was sitting on their bed, with his head bowed. Only when he heard her enter did he look up, he appeared to be more saddened than angry.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"I went to the stables," said Andromache, remembering that the stable boy had seen her there. She took off her cloak and hung it over a nearby chair, then stood and waited for Hector to reply.

"Did you ride tonight?" asked Hector, stiffly.

Andromache thought carefully before answering, a part of her wished to prove Alexander wrong, and to tell her husband where she had been. "Yes."

"Alone I presume," said Hector, it wasn't a question.

"No," said Andromache, she couldn't lie to Hector and she didn't wish to.

"No?" said Hector, and stood up off his bed and walked to his wife. "Who were you with?"

"A friend of yours," said Andromache, slowly, "his name is Alexander. He came up to me while I was on the…-,"

Hector looked to his wife in disbelief. "You were with Alexander!?"

"Yes," said Andromache, startled by her husband's behaviour, "he told me is your friend … isn't he?"

"_A friend_?" cried Hector, and started to pace up and down the room. "He isn't … just stay away from him Andromache."

"Who is he?" asked Andromache.

Hector sighed and brushed a hand through his hair. "He, _he was _a friend of mine, but our friendship ended … when he betrayed Troy. While at war in the south, he sent word to the enemy of all our plans to attack, he was given money to turn traitor. As a result of him betraying Troy … _my best friend Doryclus was killed_."

"How did he escape death for betraying Troy?" asked Andromache, she was well aware that traitors to their home country would be sentenced to death.

"His father, who is a great friend of my father," said Hector, "managed to persuade him to pardon Alexander."

"I'm sorry Hector," said Andromache and embraced her husband, "I shouldn't have left, and if I hadn't then I'd never have met him."

"Did he hurt you?" asked Hector, suddenly.

"Hurt me?" said Andromache, slightly confused. "Why would he wish to hurt me?"

"He may wish to avenge himself on me, by hurting you," said Hector. "I was the one who told my father that Alexander had betrayed Troy. Alexander hated me for it." He was silent for a moment, but then spoke again. "I want you to stay inside the palace at all times, especially while I'm away. I'll have Xanthe be with you at all times and have our chamber guarded."

"Do you really think that necessary Hector?" asked Andromache.

"I do," said Hector. "Alexander has probably only come to Troy to see his father, but I'd rather you stay with someone at all times."

Andromache nodded, she understood what Hector had said, but she didn't believe that Alexander would hurt her.

------

The few days before Hector was due to leave, passed by quickly. Andromache stayed in the confines of her chamber, worrying about her family. She had failed to convince her husband to allow her to go to Thebe.

Alexander hadn't shown himself, although Hector suspected that he was waiting until he had left. Hector had considered taking Andromache to Thebe with him, but a place of war wasn't where he wanted his wife to be. He knew that his family would look after Andromache, but he was still hesitant about leaving Troy. A guard would stay outside their chamber day and night, and Xanthe would stay with Andromache inside the chamber.

Andromache couldn't bear to say goodbye to her husband in public, she was too distraught and didn't wish to face the world outside of her chamber. She had managed to control her tears and hadn't allowed any to stain her cheeks on the morning of Hector's departure. Andromache would miss Hector, she was so accustomed to waking next to him each day that she couldn't believe him to be anywhere else, but with her.

Hector and Andromache said goodbye to one another in their chamber. Hector kissed his wife passionately before leaving. He made no promises that Thebe would be safe, even though his wife wished to hear them.

"I'll miss you," said Andromache sadly, and kept her tears locked away. She feared she would soon lose the battle to her tears.

"I'll miss you too, my love," said Hector and left their chamber, his armor shinning as it caught the sun.

Andromache stood out on her balcony and watched as Hector and the army rode from the walls of Troy, and then watched as they bordered the ships … and finally watched them sailing away. She only turned away when all she could see of Troy's army was mere specks on the sea.

Xanthe had come into Andromache and Hector's chamber as soon as Hector had left. She worked at the loom, but looked up to her friend regularly. She knew how troubled Andromache felt with her family in Thebe facing attack, and her husband sailing away to protect them.

"Xanthe," said Andromache and turned to face her handmaiden, "you may go now. I'll be fine."

"I was instructed to stay with you," said Xanthe and stopped her work, to look at Andromache.

"I'm instructing you to leave!" said Andromache, angrily. She had never spoken to Xanthe in such a manner, and she immediately felt guilt seep through her body. Andromache wished to be alone though, so she spoke no apologetic words.

Xanthe stood up from the loom and curtsied slightly before Andromache. "Very well, I'll do as you wish _Princess_ Andromache."

Andromache shivered at the cold tone Xanthe had used towards her. She felt terrible in being so horrid to Xanthe, when she was only watching over her.

As soon as Xanthe had left, Andromache collapsed on her bed and burst into tears. She feared for her family in Thebe and for Hector. Stories of the mighty Achilles and his Myrmidons had floated around Thebe for years. Achilles was known for his skill in battle, he was said to be the greatest warrior in all of Greece.

Footsteps could be heard on Andromache's balcony. She looked up from burying her head in the bed's sheets and would have screamed if a hand had not covered her mouth. Her eyes widened with alarm when she was that it was Alexander.

-----

A/N: A slightly shorter chapter, mainly because I just wanted to leave it with Andromache seeing Alexander. Polyxena, and what's bothering her, won't appear for a couple more chapters (this may change).Also, questions about Hector going to Thebe etc. willall soon be answered in the nextfew chapters :)Thank you for taking the time to review, I really appreciate all the reviews :)


	16. Chapter 16

Alexander brought his right index finger up to his mouth, signaling for Andromache to be quiet. He then whispered to her: "If you'll be quiet then I'll release my hand."

Andromache nodded furiously, and Alexander released his hand from around her mouth.

"You've been crying," he whispered and wiped away Andromache's tears.

Andromache flinched at his touch, but quickly composed herself. She cried inwardly, wishing she hadn't sent Xanthe away.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here," said Alexander, quietly, "I'm not here to hurt you; I only wanted to speak with you." He paused for a moment, and studied Andromache's face. "You must be a remarkable woman to have Hector's love."

Andromache said nothing.

"Hector once said he'd never marry," said Alexander, "though I think any man would marry you if they had the chance."

"We were arranged in marriage," said Andromache.

"Of course," said Alexander, "your father probably knew he could gain a great ally in marrying you away."

Again Andromache said nothing, she knew what Alexander had said was true; she didn't need to confirm his words.

"Did Hector tell you who I am?" asked Alexander.

"Yes," stuttered Andromache.

"Did he tell you that I betrayed Troy for the sake of some gold?" grinned Alexander, no longer bothering to whisper.

Andromache nodded.

"And that I killed his best friend?" said Alexander.

Andromache again nodded.

"It's the truth," sighed Alexander, "although I did it for much more than gold."

Andromache turned her head, wishing to hear more. Alexander smiled and continued:

"The King in the South offered me his daughter if I told him Troy's plans of attack. I had met his daughter; Elora was her name, a few times in the past when I had sailed to the south for my father. I fell in love with her as soon as I laid my eyes upon her, she was so perfect … _she looked like you_."

Alexander brushed his hand along Andromache's hair, she shivered.

"She had brown hair, like you and blue eyes also," he said and gazed into Andromache's eyes. "But you aren't like her in _everyway_. I had accepted the offer of marriage to Elora, but she was killed by a Trojan while she tried to escape her father's palace. I killed the man who killed her, and by killing him I had killed Hector's best friend."

Andromache looked at Alexander, and saw a different man gazing back at her. She felt sadness seep from him, and she wished to heal his pain. Alexander had done wrong in betraying Troy, but he hadn't deserved to lose the woman he loved, she hadn't deserved to die. "Why was she not taken as prisoner?"

Alexander sighed; he had never spoken of Elora since the night she died. He only spoke to Andromache of her now because she reminded him so much of the woman he had loved and lost. "She stabbed a Trojan warrior who tried to stop her from escaping. Doryclus, Hector's best friend, was the brother of the man she had slain, and he killed Elora out of rage."

"I'm sorry," said Andromache, sadly, "I wasn't aware that you had lost someone."

Alexander smiled. "I knew you'd understand, you're so like her."

"Why are you here?" asked Andromache, timidly.

Alexander was silent. He ran his finger along Andromache's cheek, the way he had once done with Elora. "I wanted to see you … you who look _so_ like Elora. Hector never understood my pain; he rushed to Priam and told him that I was a traitor to Troy. Hector knew everything, he even knew about Elora … but _still_ he attacked her home!" Alexander stood up off the bed, and then looked out of the balcony.

Andromache looked to the door, she knew that Alexander bore pain and hatred beyond relief, but she feared for her own life. She knew that if what Alexander had told her was actually true, then he would wish to seek revenge. She ran to the door and was about to place her slender fingers on the handle when Alexander tore her away.

Alexander wrapped one arm around Andromache's waist and then with his other, he placed his hand around her mouth. He felt tears fall upon his hands, from Andromache's eyes, but he wasn't moved.

Andromache was dragged to the bed; she didn't attempt to fight Alexander. Once Andromache was returned to the bed, Alexander withdrew a knife from his waist. Her eyes widened with alarm and her body shuddered with fright while she watched the knife in his hand.

"Stay where you are," snarled Alexander, he then ran his finger along the knife.

Andromache didn't need to be told what he meant by caressing his knife, she knew that if she moved then she would be killed. She felt something writher in the pit of her stomach, she presumed it to be nerves caused by stress, and clutched it.

Alexander eyed her suspiciously. "Are you with child?"

"Yes," lied Andromache, she wasn't with child but thought he would be sympathetic towards her if she told him she was.

"I always wished to have children with Elora, but that will never happen now." Said Alexander, he looked at Andromache and a dazed expression flashed across his face. "It's almost as if the gods have sent me to you. You, who are like Elora in everyway … you're even with child."

Silence filled the room for a moment, and Alexander began to pace the room, still clasping his knife. He held his right hand to his head, as if he suffered from a headache. "Do I take you, my gift from the gods, or do I leave you here with a man who doesn't deserve you?"

Andromache knew that he was merely mumbling to himself, but spoke to him regardless of what he might do to her. "I know you're hurting and I'm sorry, but taking me away will not help you!"

Alexander walked to the bed, where Andromache still sat. He then held her face in his hands, dropping the knife to the bed. "It'll help me. You'll ease my pain, my suffering. You'll be Elora!"

"I'm not Elora," sobbed Andromache, and pulled Alexander's hands off her face.

Alexander looked into Andromache's eyes and saw her looking back at him. Sadness swept across his face. He searched within he eyes, hunting for even a mild trace of his loved one Elora. Tears sprang from his eyes, the tears that he had locked away since the night of Elora's death. "You're not Elora."

"I'm not," said Andromache.

The door to Andromache's chamber opened. A panicked look rushed across Alexander's face. Andromache looked at Alexander; she knew that he had meant her no harm.

"Xanthe didn't seem very happy, what did you say to her Andromache?" asked Paris, his head was slightly bowed as he entered the room, but he slowly looked up and saw Andromache with a face stained by tears, and Alexander sitting in front of her, a knife beside him. Paris knew who Alexander was.

Paris lunged at Alexander, who had grabbed his knife and was clenching it tightly. Paris successfully reached Alexander's left hand, the hand that held the knife. Paris clasped onto the hand and Alexander almost dropped the knife, but then he quickly caught it before it left his hand.

Andromache ran to the open door and looked for the guard that was supposed to guard her chamber day and night … there was no sign of him. Andromache whimpered quietly, she looked back into the room and saw that Paris and Alexander were now fighting on the floor.

Alexander was a trained warrior, a full grown man, whereas Paris was not. Andromache looked around the chamber, looking for something heavy. She caught sight of Hector's old shield, and ran to pick it up. Andromache knew that Paris would hate her for this, but she needed to do it. She hit Paris on the head with the shield.

Paris was instantly knocked unconscious. Alexander dropped his knife to the ground and stood up. Andromache saw that his lips were bleeding slightly, but other than that he was perfectly fine. Paris suffered from a bleeding lip, and it appeared that a black eye and bruise on his left cheek would soon appear.

Alexander looked to Andromache with questioning eyes. "Why did you hurt him, instead of me?"

"You need to leave," said Andromache, and picked up Alexander's knife and handed it to him. "Paris would never have allowed you to leave if he was conscious. Go … now, leave the palace. I'll persuade Paris to lie and not confess to you being here."

"Thank you _Andromache_," said Alexander, and took Andromache's left hand in his own and kissed it delicately. "You've helped me today in ways no other person has before, thank you."

Andromache watched as Alexander quickly left, leaving the way he had entered the palace. She quickly collected a cloth and a basin of water, and then sat by Paris' side.

Carefully, Andromache tended to Paris' wounds. She washed away the blood on his face, and waited for him to wake. She couldn't carry Paris to the bed, and she didn't wish anyone to know Paris was hurt until she had spoken with him.

Once Andromache had cleaned Paris' face, he slowly awoke. He looked at Andromache's face and released a sigh of relief. Then he looked to the shield that lay by his head and his face grew angry.

"Where's Alexander?" asked Paris, and tried to sit up, but Andromache pushed him back.

"You need to rest," said Andromache, calmly.

"Where's Alexander?" repeated Paris.

"He's gone," answered Andromache, "I allowed him to leave. Alexander didn't hurt me, and I'm grateful that you put your life in danger for my own, but you must not mention what happened to anyone, certainly not to Hector."

"I'll not lie to my brother Andromache," said Paris, sternly. "I threw myself at Alexander to help you, and how did you repay me? You repaid me by knocking me unconscious with a shield!"

"You don't understand!" exclaimed Andromache. "Alexander lost the women he loved when Troy attacked the south; he only wished to see me because I reminded him of her. I'm sorry that I hurt you, but I had to because I knew that you'd have the guards arrest him and he doesn't deserve that."

Paris looked at Andromache in disbelief. "Andromache, he's a traitor!"

"Yes he is," scowled Andromache, and nodded, "but he only did that so he could marry the woman he loved!"

Paris shook his head and sat up.

"Will you promise me that you'll not mention this to anyone?" pleaded Andromache.

"I'll not speak of this to anyone," said Paris, and stood up, "but if I'm asked what happened to my face then I'll tell them the truth."

"No, please Paris!" begged Andromache, and clutched onto his legs to stop him from walking away. "If anyone asks, then say that you were hit, but that the husband of a woman you bedded hit you. No one will disbelieve you."

Paris laughed and lifted Andromache up to her feet. "I'll keep your promise Andromache."

Andromache embraced Paris. "Thank you."

----

A/N: Thank you for the reviews :)


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Alexander doesn't necessarily wish to get back at Hector, he just wishes someone else to understand and feel the pain that he felt after losing Elora. I want Hector and Andromache's love to not suddenly happen and be magical, I want it to be worked at because all relationships need to be worked at in order to work, which in time will make the bond between Hector and Andromache stronger. Thank you for the reviews :)

------

Paris soon left Andromache; she was then left alone in her chamber. She decided to keep the guard, who soon returned to his station, outside her chamber. Andromache thought that it would arise confusion if a guard was not to be seen outside her chamber, after Hector had ordered one to remain there at all times.

Andromache walked to the servants hall, in hopes of finding Xanthe there so she could apologise. She felt terrible after behaving so unpleasant to her, and wished to make amends. Andromache quickly glided through the halls of the palace; she now knew her way around the palace perfectly.

Xanthe was in the servant's quarters; she was in her room and lay on her bed. Andromache had rapped quietly on Xanthe's chamber door and was allowed entrance. Xanthe stood up as soon as her Princess entered.

"Is there something you need Princess Andromache?" asked Xanthe, there was no feeling in her tone which made it difficult for Andromache to know what mood she was in.

"I wished to apologise," said Andromache, miserably. "I spoke wrongly towards you, and I'm sorry. I was distressed this morning, which is no excuse for my behaviour towards you … but I hoped you would understand."

"I did understand that you were upset, Princess Andromache," said Xanthe, coldly.

Andromache sighed. "Please Xanthe; there is no need for you to call me Princess. Do you accept my apology?"

"I do," said Xanthe.

"I'll leave you then," said Andromache sadly, as she knew that Xanthe hadn't forgiven her. She left the room and strolled to her room, but as she was passing the entrance hall to the palace, she suddenly caught sight of the sea. Andromache breathed in heavily and decided to ride to the beach, she knew that Hector would disapprove, but pushed that thought from her mind.

Andromache rushed to the stables, wishing to watch the sunset. She was about to mount Hermione when she felt something move in her stomach, but this time it felt as if something was striking at her insides. Andromache remained still for a moment and waited for the pain to pass before successfully mounting her horse.

The sun had begun to set by the time Andromache had passed through the gates of Troy; she again lied to the guards and told them she was going to the temple of Apollo. Andromache rode Hermione slowly across the plain; she didn't wish to awaken the pain in her stomach.

As she neared the beach, Andromache could clearly see a person on the beach and instinctively knew it was Alexander. The sound of Hermione's hooves upon the sand caused Alexander to look up; he turned to see Andromache dismounting her horse and stood to greet her.

"I knew you'd come here," said Alexander, and smiled as Andromache walked over to him.

"You know me too tell," laughed Andromache. She sat on the sand and Alexander sat beside her.

"Did you succeed in persuading Paris to lie about me being in the palace?" asked Alexander.

"I did," said Andromache, and avoided Alexander's eyes, "I'm very grateful to Paris, not only did he risk his life for my own, but he's also lying for me … _us_."

"I'd never have hurt you," said Alexander. He turned his eyes away from Andromache because he knew that it made her feel uncomfortable.

"I know you wouldn't," replied Andromache. She turned to look at Alexander; he looked at peace with the world. He had finally realised that Elora would never rise from the underworld, that she was gone forever.

"I've made arrangements to return to the south," said Alexander, and ran his fingers through the sand. "I hoped to remain here in Troy, but Hector and his father would never allow it, and rightly so. Priam has already bestowed enough kindness on me, he pardoned me from death, and I think that wishing to live here peacefully would be wishing for too much."

"I'm sure Hector and Priam would think differently now," insisted Andromache, and turned to Alexander, "I could speak with Hector, I'm sure he'd understand the reasons for your actions."

Alexander smiled weakly. He turned to look at Andromache and ran his finger along her forehead and down her left cheek. "What did Hector ever do to deserve you?"

"I don't deserve him," said Andromache quietly, she didn't attempt to remove Alexander's finger from her face. "Hector showed me kindness from the very first day we met … and I love him."

"Kindness?" said Alexander. "Is that what you want, do you want kindness from the man you love? Or do you wish for the _fire_, the _passion_ in love?"

Andromache moaned sadly and pulled Alexander's finger off her face. "You speak of lust, which wilts with time. _Love_ is stronger than lust. Hector is a wonderful man, I couldn't have asked for anything more in marriage."

"You could and you did wish for more in marriage." Said Alexander. "I know that you wished for more, I saw it within you on the night I first met you here. Marriage has become a routine for you, but you're not one for routines."

"You don't know me so how could you possibly assume such things?" cried Andromache and stood up, but she knew that Alexander spoke the truth; marriage had become a routine for her. Although it was a routine she liked.

Alexander rose to his feet. "You opened yourself to me on the night we met. I know the meaning of every word you speak, because you allow me to know."

"How dare you?" shrieked Andromache. "How dare you presume such things? I'm very happy with Hector, I enjoy being his wife … I _enjoy_ the routine we live."

"Do you?" whispered Alexander. In one swift movement he pulled Andromache towards him, and kissed her urgently.

Andromache was startled at first, but then she felt the passion, the fire that Alexander had spoken of. It was Alexander's fire and passion, not hers. She couldn't believe that this was the same man that had cried to her earlier about the woman he had loved. Andromache felt disgusted by his touch. She ripped apart from Alexander's grasp and ran to Hermione.

"Andromache, Andromache wait!" Alexander shouted.

Andromache had nearly reached her horse when she again felt pain within her stomach. She cried aloud and held her stomach, wishing for the pain to cease so she could mount Hermione and ride away.

"Is it the child?" asked Alexander, he had now reached Andromache.

"I'm not with child," snarled Andromache, through gritted teeth as she felt the pain grow. "I lied to you so you'd be sympathetic towards me." She cried inwardly because the pain was becoming unbearable, she didn't move for fear of feeling even more pain.

Everything seemed blurred to Andromache, she grasped onto Alexander to steady herself because she felt as if she was going to fall. She felt a small amount of sickness swim up her throat, and she quickly swallowed it, but then a burning sensation exploded within her throat. The world was becoming dizzy for Andromache, she felt certain that she was about to fall. Andromache then fainted; Alexander had to hold onto her tightly so she wouldn't hit the ground.

Alexander picked Andromache up in his arms; he then placed her on Hermione, who stood obediently. Once Andromache was safely on Hermione, he had to lay her forward onto Hermione's neck so she wouldn't fall, he mounted the horse. Alexander held Andromache in his arms and held onto the reins with his hands. Hermione galloped to the palace.

The guards at the gates of Troy recognised the girl, they were still unaware she was a Princess though, but they immediately recognised Alexander. A few of them grabbed at Hermione's reins to stop her, but she neighed loudly and rode to the palace. Alexander knew that the guards would call for assistance and notify the King, but he needed to return Andromache to her chamber and find help for her before leaving.

Isus, the stable boy, was brushing a white mare when Hermione galloped into the stable. He immediately looked up from his work and was shocked to see the Princess unconscious and that she was with a man he hadn't seen before.

"Boy, come here quickly!" shouted Alexander.

Isus followed the man's order and rushed to Hermione.

"Hold the reins while I dismount," said Alexander, and he dismounted Hermione. Once he had, he dragged Andromache off the horse and into his arms. "Take the horse to her stall and then find a physician. When you find one, send him to Hector and Andromache's chamber that is where she will be."

Isus nodded and quickly returned Hermione to her stall before racing out of the stables in search of a physician.

Alexander rushed Andromache to her chamber; luckily he didn't come across anyone on his way. He knew the palace better than some of the servants who had worked there all their lives. Once he had reached Andromache and Hector's chamber, he carefully placed Andromache onto the bed. She still hadn't woken up and her temperature was rapidly rising.

The basin of water and cloth Andromache had used to clean Paris' wounds still sat on the floor. Alexander hastily picked the cloth and basin up, he wringed the cloth, hoping some of the blood would trickle out of it. Then he placed the basin by the bed and gently dabbed the cloth on Andromache's forehead.

The door to Andromache's chamber opened quietly. Isus entered the room, slightly nervous at first, and a physician followed closely behind him.

Alexander stood off the bed and walked over to the physician, although before he informed the man on Andromache's sudden illness, he turned to the stable boy. "Thank you, you've helped me immensely, you may go now."

Isus nodded and left the room.

"What is wrong with Princess Andromache?" asked the physician, he didn't recognise the man who stood before him. He then rushed to Andromache's side and felt her forehead.

"I don't know," answered Alexander. "She was perfectly fine, but then she clasped onto her stomach as if she felt pain there, after that she fainted. I brought her here immediately, and then her temperature rose."

The physician nodded and lifted Andromache's left hand and felt her pulse. Andromache groaned, she slowly woke and looked around the room madly.

"How did I get here?" she mumbled and sat up, she widened her eyes when she saw that Alexander was in the room. "What are you doing here?"

The physician looked from the Princess and to the man; he turned to speak to Alexander. "I think it'd be best if you left, you're obviously distressing Princess Andromache."

Alexander nodded and left the room, he waited outside her chamber for news on how she was.

The physician turned to his patient. "Princess Andromache, could you please tell me what you think caused you to faint?"

Andromache sighed and rubbed her stomach, the pain had now vanished. "I felt pain within my stomach, excruciating pain, and I fainted."

"When did you last bleed?" asked the physician and again checked Andromache's pulse.

"Bleed?" whispered Andromache, and furiously began to think in her head. She almost screamed when she realised: "I've not bled for over a … _a month_."

"You're with child then," said the physician and smiled happily. "Have you been feeling stressed lately? The pains you've been feeling could be stress related, and now that you're with child … that could be making you feel even worse. I'd suggest that you rest over the next few days, relax as much as you can. Don't do anything strenuous for the next few weeks either. Eat and drink as much as you can also."

Andromache nodded, unable to speak from shock.

"If you feel worse then send a servant for me," said the physician. "Congratulations Princess Andromache." He then left the room, and Alexander stepped into the chamber.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, I'm glad to see different opinions on Alexander. You can either love Alexander or hate him; personally I don't mind which because he isn't a character I've specifically wished to be: only loved or only hated.

-----

Andromache watched as Alexander entered her and Hector's chamber. She shivered with disgust when he turned to smile at her, after closing the chamber door.

The feeling of guilt swam around in Andromache's heart. She hadn't willingly kissed Alexander that she knew and believed. Although she had drifted from the palace, and the walls of Troy by riding to the beach, even after Hector had wished for her to remain in the palace at all times while he was away, which caused her to feel guilty.

Now she was with child, she hadn't wished to be with child so early in her marriage, but it was the will of the gods, and who was she to question the gods will? Andromache hoped that Hector would be happy, although they had never discussed children so she wasn't aware of his feelings towards having them, even though he must have them to provide Troy with an heir.

Alexander walked over to the bed and stood beside it. "Are you alright?"

Andromache tried to stand up; she wished to strike Alexander for kissing her. She still couldn't believe that he had kissed her. Andromache successfully stood up off the bed, even though she was still feeling slightly unsteady on her feet. She walked over to Alexander and slapped him across his face, she feared that he may strike her in return, but she didn't care anymore.

"How _dare_ you kiss me?" scowled Andromache. "I thought that you were a friend, well I don't know if I could have even called you that!"

"I kissed you because I wished to see if there was anything between us," said Alexander, he chose to ignore that Andromache had struck him, "and I was right, there is something between us. I felt the passion, the _fire_, Andromache!"

Andromache laughed sadly. "You may have felt passion and fire, but I didn't feel any for you. I pitied you when you came here, I somehow imagined being in your position, losing a loved one, and I wished to help you. I don't feel anything towards you except pity, and now madness and _anger_. I want you to leave now, leave now or I'll be forced to have you arrested."

"You don't mean that Andromache," said Alexander, "I know you, and you don't mean that!"

"I don't understand you," said Andromache, quietly. "I feel nothing for you, I never will. How is it possible for you to feel anything for me when earlier you spoke of loving Elora? You're nothing more than a pathetic _fool_. I could have you killed for touching me, and I _will_ unless you leave right now."

Alexander was silent, he knew that Andromache spoke truthfully and knew that he could be killed for kissing the wife of a Prince of Troy. He walked over to the door, but he turned to look at Andromache before he placed his hand on the door handle. "I _did _love Elora, but that love will never be returned. When I first saw you I was instantly attracted to you and as I spent more time with you, especially this morning, I felt more towards you. I'm sorry for acting as I did towards you."

He placed his hand on the door handle and turned it slightly, but then stopped and sighed heavily. "I did come to Troy to seek revenge on Hector; I wished to make him suffer like I did. However, you made me realise that Elora would never be replaced, and in some way, by being with you, I realised that Hector wasn't to blame for Elora's death. I wished to blame everyone for her death."

"Where will you go now?" asked Andromache.

"I'll return to the south soon," said Alexander, and turned to look at Andromache. "Thank you Andromache, you're a magnificent woman. I hope that you and Hector are very happy with one another."

Alexander turned the handle to the door and left the chamber. He successfully left the palace, he was seen by a few servants but they didn't question him because he appeared to be a man of wealth and high class.

Andromache sat on the bed once more and breathed in heavily. Hector hadn't even been gone for a day and already so much had happened. The feeling of anxiety quickly dripped into Andromache's heart. Since Alexander had come to her chamber, earlier, she had thought little of Hector traveling to Thebe to protect her family. Guilt still swam around her stomach; it grew now as she thought of Hector sailing to Thebe.

She rubbed her stomach gently, and smiled knowing that her child was growing inside of her. Andromache wished Hector was with her so she could tell him the news. She was nervous, but also excited to have a child. _I'll be a mother_, thought Andromache happily.

Andromache stood up off the bed and departed from her chamber, she wished to see Paris and apologise to him once more. Now that Alexander had left, her senses had suddenly returned to her, and she knew that she must tell Hector everything when he returned.

As she turned down the hall, leading away from her chamber, she realised how thankful she was to Alexander. He had shown her how much she truly loved and cared for Hector, and for that Andromache would never be able to repay him. She smiled as she reached Paris' chamber, she hadn't felt so happy since Hector had professed his love for her. Andromache knocked on Paris' chamber door, and was amazed to see that he answered; she had inwardly expected him to be elsewhere at night.

"What are you doing here Andromache?" asked Paris, and opened the door widely so Andromache could come into his room.

"I wished to explain myself to you," said Andromache, shyly. "I also wished to thank you once more for risking your life for my own; it was very valiant of you."

Paris smirked and sat down at the table in his room, Andromache did also. "I aim to appear _valiant_ to at least one woman per day."

Andromache smiled, but then her face grew serious once more. "I've decided to tell Hector everything when he returns. Alexander has now left, I think he's returning to the south. I helped him today because I pitied him, and felt that I could somehow help him. I will tell Hector, but I'd appreciate it if you spoke of today's events to no one else, at least not until Hector returns."

Paris nodded and smiled. "I shall tell those who ask that I was hit by the husband of a woman I bedded. I'm glad that you've chosen to tell Hector, I've never lied to him and I didn't wish to start now … well I've _tried_ to lie to him, but Hector of course always finds out."

Andromache laughed, and then she considered telling Paris she was with child, she was now so excited that she thought she couldn't contain the news any longer, but she decided that Hector should be the first to know. "Shouldn't you be bedding women?"

Paris smirked. "I should be, as I do have a reputation to uphold, but I've been feeling bored with bedding random women. I must be going mad."

"Perhaps," smirked Andromache, "but I suspect you're probably just going through a phase, _or_ you may be growing up."

"I'm only two years younger than you, I'm already grown up!" said Paris, and laughed. "I do enjoy our meetings Andromache, you're a good sister-in-law."

"Thank you Paris," said Andromache, "I have to say that _you're_ a rather lovely brother-in-law."

Paris smiled, and then was silent for a moment. "My heart stopped when I saw you with Alexander today, and that he had a knife with him. I felt certain that he was going to hurt you."

"I admit that I thought he would hurt me also," said Andromache, "but I know, now, that he'd never have hurt me. I think that deep down Alexander's a good man, and that he has suffered from an enormous amount of pain, which caused him to act as he did."

"Hector and Alexander were good friends before the latter decided to betray Troy," sighed Paris. "At least it's over now."

Andromache nodded.

"Would you like me to escort you to your chamber?" asked Paris, and stood up.

"No, thank you Paris," said Andromache and stood, "I'll be fine, thank you for your time."

Paris nodded and walked Andromache to the door. "Goodnight Andromache."

"Goodnight Paris," said Andromache and left the room. She returned to her chamber, wishing to fall asleep as soon as she rested her head on the bed. She opened the door to her chamber and started slightly to see that Polyxena was in the room, and that she was crying.

Andromache rushed to Polyxena's side, who stood by the balcony.

"What is it Polyxena?" asked Andromache.

"I'm sorry Andromache," sobbed Polyxena, "but I needed to see someone, I can't bear to see Cassandra looking at me the way she does!"

"What do you mean?" asked Andromache, slightly confused.

"A few nights ago," Polyxena sniveled, "I woke to hear Cassandra screaming. I ran to her chamber and heard her call my name, but when I reached her room I saw that she was asleep. I woke her, because even though she appeared to be sleeping, she still called my name. When Cassandra finally woke, she looked at me and burst into tears on my arm. Then … then she … she cried that she thought_ I_ was … _dead_."

"She was dreaming," reassured Andromache, and wiped away Polyxena's tears.

Polyxena shook her head slowly. "Ever since that night, Cassandra has been behaving oddly towards me, sometimes it appears that she can't bear to look at me because I upset her too much."

"Cassandra's most likely embarrassed," said Andromache, although she doubted her own words.

"Her dreams have often come true," murmured Polyxena. "I remember as children we used to tell one another our dreams … and hers would _always_ come true."

Andromache walked over to the jug of water, beside her bed, and to the two cups that sat beside it. She poured water in one of the cups and handed it to Polyxena. "I'm sure it was nothing more than a dream Polyxena; try not to dwell on it too much."

Polyxena nodded and thanked Andromache for the water, she then drank it slowly. "Cassandra knows the fate of us all."


	19. Chapter 19

Polyxena soon left after she had finished drinking the water Andromache had given her. Andromache watched her leave, and was worried about her friend because she knew that Polyxena would forever dwell over Cassandra's words.

Andromache quickly prepared herself for sleep and then lay on her bed; she felt it too hot to sleep with the sheets over her tonight. She felt pain arise in her stomach again, although this time it wasn't as terrible as her pains had been earlier that day. Andromache went to the basin, which was now filled with fresh water, and washed her face with cold water, hoping it would cool her while she tried to sleep.

She suddenly felt something trickle down her leg, she looked down to her white robe and saw that blood stained the area in between her legs. Andromache allowed a cry to escape her mouth, she knew what this meant. She quickly changed into a clean robe and gathered some leaves and spare cloth from her wooden chest. Once a month, Andromache would gather leaves and cloth and use it to contain the rapid flow of blood that leaked from her each month.

Andromache opened the door to her chamber and turned to the guard that stood outside her door. "Will you please send for a physician?" She then shut her door, wishing to be alone for a few moments.

The guard nodded and quickly haunted for a servant. Xanthe walked down the hall, wishing to see Andromache, she halted when the guard called out to her.

"Find the physician for Princess Andromache!" said the guard.

Xanthe looked at the guard, and to Andromache's chamber, which was now in sight. "I'm Princess Andromache's handmaiden, I'll see to her while you find a physician."

The guard nodded and ran down the hall in search of the physician that resided in the palace. Xanthe hurried to her friend's chamber, she opened the door and found Andromache sitting on the bed, rocking backwards and forwards.

"Andromache, what's wrong?" asked Xanthe and sat by Andromache's side.

"I'm not with child," whispered Andromache. "I was never with child."

Xanthe remained silent; she rubbed her friends back in gentle motions, and waited for the physician.

The door to Andromache's chamber opened and the physician she had seen earlier stepped into the room. He asked for Xanthe to leave while he spoke to the Princess, but Andromache held onto Xanthe's arm and insisted that she remained in the room.

"Would you please tell me what's wrong Princess Andromache?" He asked.

"I've bled," said Andromache quietly.

The physician sighed sadly. "I'm sorry Princess Andromache. If you've bled now then you're not with child, you probably bled later than usual due to recent stress. I'm very sorry."

Andromache nodded, she was unable to speak or cry because she felt numb. She had been so excited to tell Hector, when he returned, that she was expecting a child, but now she wouldn't be able to do that.

"I would again suggest that you relax over the next few weeks," said the physician, "do everything I instructed you to do earlier. I'm sorry Princess Andromache, goodnight." He then left the room.

"I'm sorry Andromache," said Xanthe and embraced her. "Would you like me to gather some food for you, would you like some wine … or water?"

Andromache smiled weakly and shook her head. "I'm fine Xanthe. I think I'll just retire to bed, thank you for coming, you may go also."

Xanthe was reluctant to leave her friend, she clearly saw that Andromache was grieved by the news of not being with child, and she wished to comfort her. Finally, Xanthe left.

Andromache lay on her bed, this time she wrapped herself underneath the sheets. She felt it strange to be sleeping in the bed alone, Andromache wished for Hector to be with her now, she needed him.

-----

Andromache awoke early the next morning, she slept little during the night because she was constantly thinking of Hector, her family, and the child she thought she had. She couldn't face leaving her chamber, she wished to be alone.

Remaining in the robe she slept in, Andromache carried a chair out to the balcony and watched the sunrise. She looked out to the sea and imagined how far across it Hector was now. Andromache wished she had left with him; it'd have been easier for her to cope if she was with the man she loved.

Andromache had watched her mother, and women she knew lose children before, but they actually_ lost_ _children_. She felt ridiculous for grieving over a child that hadn't even existed, but she couldn't control the way she felt.

She was relieved that she hadn't told Paris that she was with child, when she thought she was. Andromache decided to not tell Hector that she believed she was with child; she felt no need for it and wished to keep this to herself. A part of Andromache felt like she wasn't womanly enough to tell the difference between being with child, and bleeding later than usual.

Around the hour Andromache would usually eat breakfast, she called for a servant to bring her some food. She realised she hadn't eaten since the morning before and felt slightly hungry. When the food arrived, she carried it to the table in her chamber and managed to eat a few grapes, but nothing more so she returned to her chair on the balcony.

Andromache heard the door to her room open, she turned her head to see who had entered and saw her mother-in-law walking towards her. Hecuba carried a chair out to the balcony and sat it beside Andromache's chair, so she could sit on it.

"It's a lovely morning," said Hecuba, and noticed that Andromache was still wearing her nightly robe.

"It is," agreed Andromache, and wished she was properly dressed. "I'm sorry for my appearance, I wasn't expecting company."

Hecuba smiled and patted Andromache's hand kindly. "Please do not worry Andromache, I often wore my sleeping robes during the day when Priam sailed away to battle for the first time. I felt so lost without him when he first left, I didn't know what to do with myself."

Andromache nodded; she perfectly understood what her mother-in-law said. "Did it get easier for you, after time?"

"It did," said Hecuba, "although it was never completely easy. I had Hector very early on in my marriage to Priam, and it was hard to see my husband leave for battle while I remained with our children. I only wish that Priam could see Hector speaking his first word, or Cassandra walking for the first time. Even when Priam was here, he was often busy."

"Do you think it will be the same with Hector and I?" asked Andromache, she wished that it wouldn't because she wanted Hector to see his children grow with her.

"I hope not," said Hecuba. "When I married Priam, Troy was at war, which caused Priam to be away for long periods of time, and then to be engaged with work while he was home. Troy isn't at war now and hasn't been for many years, I feel certain that you and Hector will see your children grow together."

Andromache smiled. "I hope we do."

"How do you find married life?" asked Hecuba.

"Wonderful," said Andromache, "Hector and I are very happy together."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Hecuba, she then stood up. "I'll leave you now Andromache, if you ever feel lonely while Hector is away, then you're more than welcome to visit me."

"Thank you," said Andromache, she then stood up and walked her mother-in-law to the door.

Andromache returned to the balcony. She looked over it and into the royal gardens. She stood there for a few moments, breathing in the cool morning air, and then returned into her room. Andromache decided to dress into a pale blue peplos, she wanted to go into the market place and purchase a new robe after ruining her white one the night before.

-----

A/N: I think any questions you may have, will be answered by the end of the fic. Although, I will say that I'm planning to bring Polyxena's death in this, but that won't be for a while yet.

I really don't know what women, in the time period of Troy, did when they had periods. I tried to do some research, but that wasn't helpful. (I'm sure there is stuff out there, I just couldn't find it.) So I've decided to just have the women use leaves and cloth when they have their period.

At the moment I can say that we _may_ see more of Alexander, I have two ways in my head that we may see Alexander. If we do see him then it will probably be in the next chapter (although I'm only just starting to write chapter 20 now, so I'm not too sure), and don't worry Andromache will never fall in love with Alexander. Thanks for the reviews! :)


	20. Chapter 20

The air was exceptionally warm as Andromache set off to the marketplace; she took the guard, who still remained outside her room, as her escort. She looked out to the sea and quickly turned away, Andromache didn't wish to be reminded of her troubles when she was out in public.

Andromache decided against wearing her crown, she didn't wish to attract unwanted attention today. She was dressed plainly, and glided through the marketplace, only stopping when she reached her favourite material and robe cart.

The man who worked at the cart, Troilus, smiled broadly when he saw his favourite customer, she was his favourite customer because he always managed to persuade her to purchase more than she intended. Andromache was well aware of this, but she didn't mind.

"Good morning Princess Andromache, you look _magnificent _as always," greeted Troilus. "How may I serve you on this glorious day?"

Andromache smirked; Troilus certainly had a way with words. "I'd like to buy a white robe."

"Would you like anything else Princess Andromache?" asked Troilus, and smiled sweetly.

"No thank you, Troilus," said Andromache, and smiled, "I don't wish to give my husband a fright by purchasing lots of robes while he's away."

"Oh yes," said Troilus, "I had forgotten that Prince Hector was away, he'll be returning to Troy shortly, won't he?"

"Yes," said Andromache, quietly.

Troilus folded the white robe and handed it to Andromache. "I hope Prince Hector returns safely, and that your family is well."

"Thank you," said Andromache. She left the cart after paying Troilus, and was about to walk back to the palace with her guard, when her eyes caught sight of a ship by the beach. Andromache could see that men were loading the ship with supplies.

Andromache turned to her guard. "Do you know where that ship is destined to?" She pointed to the ship by the beach.

"I believe it's returning to the south," answered the guard.

"The south," whispered Andromache, and she suddenly thought of Alexander. She knew that Alexander intended to return to the south, she presumed he would now be on that ship. Andromache felt a tug within to go to the ship and say goodbye to him, and she succumbed to her desire. "I'm going to the beach, I wish to say goodbye to someone."

Andromache's guard, Eresus, appeared slightly bewildered by her words but said nothing. He accompanied Andromache down to the beaches.

Alexander was there, he stood by the ship that would set sail for the south. Men and women were boarding the ship; Andromache knew it would soon be leaving. She watched Alexander as he looked out to the sea, obviously engrossed within his own thoughts. Andromache was saddened to see that he'd be leaving; she had felt a closeness towards him, something she could only understand now.

"Please remain here," said Andromache to her guard, then walked over to where Alexander stood, and spoke to him. "I hope Poseidon blesses your voyage."

Alexander smiled and turned to greet Andromache. He was grieved to be leaving Troy, and despite betraying the country, he still loved it. "How did you know I'd be leaving today?"

"I simply knew," replied Andromache, and smirked slightly. "I assume you'll not be returning to Troy again after this?"

"You assume correctly," said Alexander, and lowered his head for a moment but then composed himself and looked up to Andromache. "I don't think it'd be wise for me to return again."

Andromache nodded. "I suppose I should say goodbye to you then."

"You should," said Alexander, softly. He stepped nearer to Andromache and took her left hand in his own and kissed it gently. "Goodbye Andromache, it was an honour to have met you."

Andromache breathed in heavily. "Thank you; it was an honour to have met you also." She was silent for a moment, unable to form words with her mouth; she quickly gathered her wits and spoke once more. "Goodbye Alexander."

Alexander nodded politely and boarded the ship. Andromache swiftly turned her head away from the sea and marched up to her guard. She returned to the palace and hurried to her chamber, wishing to see no one.

Slowly, Andromache stepped out onto her balcony and saw the ship sailing away. She bowed her head and felt tears leak from her eyes and run down her cheeks. Andromache had felt no love for Alexander, she had only felt friendship, but she was grieved to see a dear friend leave.

Xanthe appeared by Andromache's side, she embraced her friend and walked with her into the chamber. Andromache sat down on her bed and watched as Xanthe poured some water for her, she hadn't even heard her handmaiden enter the room.

"I saw that Alexander left today," said Xanthe, and watched her friend carefully.

Andromache's eyes widened slightly. "How did you know?"

"Prince Paris told me," answered Xanthe, and then handed the cup to Andromache, who sipped it slowly. "Don't worry, no one else knows what happened but he wished for me to know so I could comfort you if need be."

"Comfort me?" asked Andromache, deeply confused.

"Prince Paris thought you'd be distressed," said Xanthe. "He only worries about you."

Andromache said nothing, but was comforted by Paris' actions.

"Did you love Alexander?" asked Xanthe, suddenly. She had no feeling of fear to ask Andromache such bold questions.

Andromache laughed, weakly. "No, I never felt anything more for him other than friendship." She was silent for a moment, but then obtained courage to speak again. "I felt wanted by Alexander, I almost felt needed."

"Don't you feel such things from Prince Hector?" asked Xanthe, and sat beside her friend on the bed.

"I do not doubt that Hector loves me," replied Andromache, quietly, "but I feel like I don't deserve him. Hector is a Prince of Troy, the greatest warrior in Troy … he could have any woman he wished for."

"He has _you_," said Xanthe, "he has the woman he loves."

"Hector never chose me," said Andromache, and laughed at herself, "I know it sounds childish, but Hector and I never _chose_ one another. We were arranged in marriage and we've been fortunate to love one another … but is that enough? I don't feel needed by Hector the way I need him because he could have any woman he pleases, but me … all I have in this world is _him_ and I fear losing him, or losing his love.

"I felt wanted by Alexander," continued Andromache, "because he chose me, he may have only chosen my friendship but at least he chose something of me. I fear that I'll never be good enough for Hector."

A knock was heard on Andromache's chamber door; she quickly wiped away her tears and breathed in heavily. She'd control her emotions. Xanthe answered the door and saw that Princess Cassandra stood outside of it.

"It's Princess Cassandra to see you Princess Andromache," said Xanthe, she knew to call Andromache by her full title in front of other members of royalty, excluding Paris and Hector.

Andromache stood up off the bed and walked over to the door. She greeted her sister-in-law and motioned for her to join her in the chamber. Xanthe curtsied in front of both Princesses before leaving the chamber, slowly shutting the door behind her.

Cassandra sat down at the table and Andromache did also, although her attention was drawn by the sea outside. Andromache quickly ripped her eyes away from the spectacular view and focused them on Cassandra.

"Hector will soon return," said Cassandra, having noticed Andromache's eyes gazing at the sea. "I think the journey to Thebe has been blessed for the army."

"You _think_ or _know_?" asked Andromache, unable to contain herself. She was curious of Cassandra's ability to foresee events in the future.

Cassandra laughed, she had never been asked such a question. "I _think_. I'm not always blessed with visions from the future, only when deemed appropriate."

"By who?" asked Andromache.

"Apollo," answered Cassandra, and looked at Andromache oddly. "Surely you've heard the tales about me?"

"I've heard that you're a seer," replied Andromache, "but nothing more."

Cassandra was surprised, and took a moment before speaking. "I received the gift from Apollo; he wished to seduce me and offered me the gift of foresight, although I refused his sexual advances towards me. Ever since I was given the gift from Apollo, I've had visions, usually in my sleep."

"Do you know the fate of us all?" asked Andromache, remembering Polyxena's words.

Cassandra was silent for a few moments; she lowered her head and sighed heavily before raising it again. "I do, but don't ask me to reveal your future. Our destinies have already been made; all we can do is follow them."

-----

A/N: I had two different versions of this chapter, and I've been contemplating over which one to use. So I've gone with this one now. Thank you for the reviews! :)


	21. Chapter 21

Five weeks had passed since Hector had left for Troy, and only a few days short of that since Andromache had said goodbye to Alexander. She had spent many of her days working at her in loom and passing time in her chamber.

Hector's family had been wonderful to Andromache, she often dinned with at least one of them each day and they always succeeded in raising her spirits. They would tell her stories of when Hector was a child, especially Hecuba. Andromache loved to hear these stories because she knew she'd never hear them from her husband, mainly because he'd be too embarrassed to tell her.

On the day announcing the fifth week since Hector's departure, Andromache stood up from her loom, frustrated with the heat and the constant thoughts that were spinning through her mind. She decided to walk to the marketplace and purchase a purple peplos to wear when Hector arrived home from Thebe, which was supposed to be any day now. Andromache was desperate for her husband to return, she needed to know that her family were safe.

Andromache quickly walked to the marketplace and took her guard, Eresus, as her escort.

The marketplace was awfully crowded, and Andromache regretted visiting it on such a day, especially now that the day was beginning to grow even hotter. After purchasing a purple peplos from Troilus, Andromache began to look for different routes to return to the palace. The route she usually took was now filled with people arriving and leaving the marketplace, it was also directly in the sunlight and she didn't wish to become even hotter. She saw a deserted lane not too far away from where she stood, and decided to walk down it and then take necessary turns from there to return to the palace.

Andromache turned to speak with her guard; he was native to Troy and obviously knew the country better than she did, but she couldn't see him anywhere. She quickly returned to Troilus' cart and asked whether or not he had seen her guard, but he hadn't seen the guard since he had left with her. Andromache decided to return to the palace herself, hoping that her guard would have the sense to return there also.

So Andromache decided to walk down the deserted lane, however, as she did she suddenly become worried. The lane didn't appear to be in a respectable area, and as the lane continued she saw that it led into the street with only a few houses: The Whore Houses.

The servants in the palace had always gossiped about the whore houses, though Andromache preferred to call them prostitute houses. She had heard that they were full of women who gave themselves to men. Andromache now stood outside the houses; Paris had pointed them out to her, from a different lane, when he accompanied her to the marketplace a few weeks past. Paris had swore that he had only stepped into one of the prostitute houses once, the women weren't to his liking he had said, and he only pointed them out to Andromache after she had shown an interest in their peculiar state.

Andromache couldn't see anyone and was deeply relieved, she didn't wish to be seen in an area like this, nor did she wish to meet anyone in such a place. She turned around and began to walk down the lane she had come from; she decided it'd be best to return to the palace by her usual route. Andromache suddenly heard the faint sound of footsteps behind her; she quickly turned around but saw no one. She assumed it was her wild imagination and turned once more to return to the marketplace. Andromache nearly screamed when she saw someone was standing in front of her.

"It's you!" cried Andromache, and laughed at her silliness, although she was pleased to see it was only her guard. "I wondered where you had disappeared to."

"Sorry Princess Andromache," said Eresus, "we must have lost one another in the marketplace."

Andromache nodded in agreement. They then proceeded to the marketplace and returned to the palace via their usual route. Once Andromache had returned to the palace, she decided to take a walk in the shade of the royal garden, her guard returned to his station outside her chamber.

A fresh, cool wind blew into Andromache's face, and she sighed happily. She sat down on the grass, and removed the sandals from her feet. Andromache jumped with fright when she heard a voice shouting her.

"Andromache!"

Quickly, Andromache turned her head to where she heard the voice. She laughed when she saw that Paris was running towards her, his little legs running like the wind. "What is it?"

"He's here!" panted Paris. "The army has just returned, Hector's riding to the palace now, we need to meet him!"

Andromache's mouth dropped open; she scrambled to her feet after putting her sandals back on. She raced with Paris to the entrance hall where they'd great Hector. Hecuba, Priam, Polyxena and Cassandra were already there, and they all greeted Andromache.

Fear entangled itself around Andromache's heart, in a few minutes she'd know the fate of her family. She closed her eyes tightly for a second, beginning to feel faint. Her heart began to beat rapidly; she took a deep breath and straitened her back.

There he was … Andromache's husband. He dismounted his horse and began to walk up the stone steps, his eyes scanned across his family, searching for his wife and then he saw her. He gazed into her eyes and saw such hope within them, hope for good news that he felt sickness gather in his stomach, because he didn't bring good tidings.

Andromache saw the way Hector looked at her, she knew then before he even reached her. She closed her eyes once more and felt tears gather within them, but she composed herself … she'd be strong.

Hector reached the entrance hall and greeted his father. Andromache could see that he whispered something in his father's ear and then he walked over to her. He embraced his wife and breathed in her scent, glad to be home. Andromache had expected Hector to greet the rest of his family, but he didn't. He took Andromache by her arm and led her to their chamber.

Neither one of them spoke during the walk to their chamber, Hector didn't wish to tell Andromache his news until they were in the chamber, and Andromache knew that if she spoke then she'd release her tears.

Eresus opened the chamber door for Hector and Andromache, then Hector instructed for the guard to leave his station and return to his home. Hector closed his chamber door once he and Andromache had entered. He rubbed his forehead with his hand and watched as Andromache looked at him with expectant eyes.

"Andromache…," said Hector, and was silent for a moment while he thought of how best to break the news to his wife, he had thought of what to say to her on the voyage home to Troy but now those words didn't seem right, "I'm sorry Andromache … but your family … Achilles attacked earlier than planned."

Andromache bowed her head and held onto a nearby chair to steady herself. "_My family_ … what happened to them?"

"Achilles killed your father and brothers," said Hector, he walked up to his wife and tried to comfort her but she pushed him away.

"And my _mother_?" stuttered Andromache, she now allowed the tears to trickle down her face.

"Your mother was taken as prisoner," answered Hector, "but she died from grief soon afterwards." He then took Andromache in his arms and she clung onto him, crying onto his shinning armor.

There was no warmness to Andromache's body; she was cold, so cold. She could see her family in her mind, see their happy faces beaming back at her, she couldn't bear the thought of her family being gone. The thought of how Andromache's family died suddenly came to her, she could picture it almost perfectly, she had never met Achilles but she imagined what he must look like. She tried to push the horrid thought from her mind, but she didn't succeed, instead the thought decided to etch itself within her.

"I'm sorry Andromache," said Hector, and kissed her forehead, "if I could have helped them, I would of."

Andromache looked up to her husband and kissed him softly. "I'm glad you're home."

-------

A/N: Hector is home at last! I'm going to try and update again before Christmas Day, I think updates may be a little less frequent after Christmas day for a week or so.

I decided to reply to reviews personally this time:

Iresol – Thank you for reviewing, I really appreciate it and your comments :)

Donna Lynn – I _think _I know what you think about why I wrote the last few chapters the way I did, although I'm not too sure. Thank you for reviewing, and I can say that Andromache will tell Hector herself, although I've not decided how he'll react yet! :)

Lady Hades – Thank you for the reviews. I never thought I'd be able to update so quickly, but I manage to write a chapter each day and put it onto the site. I usually have a lot of free time, so it's spent doing this :)

Queen Arwen – I'm sorry I didn't include a bar fight between Hector and Alexander! Thank you for the review :)

Kitera-n-Lil – I'm sorry that I'm going to kill Polyxena; I'm going to try and follow what happened to her in the Iliad. Thank you for the review and lovely comments :)

aLL aMeRIcAn gIRl 50 – Thank you for reviewing, I'll try and keep updating the fic frequently :)

**Merry Christmas! If you don't celebrate Christmas then have a lovely winter break! :)**


	22. Chapter 22

Hector returned to his chamber, he had been with his father who wished to know all details about the attack on Thebe. Hector hadn't wished to leave his wife, but knew that he needed to speak with his father. He now closed the door to his chamber quietly; he didn't wish to wake Andromache who was sleeping on the bed.

Andromache was glad that Hector had to leave her; she wished to scream at the world alone. As soon as her husband had left, she collapsed onto the bed and cried herself to sleep. Although, even in sleep she wasn't at peace, her family's faces haunted her, they called out to her, crying for help.

Slowly, Hector walked over to his bed and lay down next to his wife. He kissed her forehead slightly and felt how cold she was, even though she slept beneath the sheets and the night was still warm. Hector stood up off the bed and found a couple more sheets and carefully laid them over Andromache, and then he returned to lying next to her. He watched as his wife searched within her dreams for happy memories of her family.

It pained Hector to see his wife feel so much grief; he knew how much she loved her family. Whenever Andromache spoke of her family, her eyes lit up as if she could feel them near her by remembering simple memories. She would always speak of them with the utmost respect and love, something she knew they returned.

Hector crept underneath the sheets of the bed and cradled his wife in his arms, then swiftly drifted off to sleep.

A few hours after Hector had returned to the chamber, Andromache suddenly woke up; she sat up in the bed and panted heavily. She had once again dreamt of Achilles killing her brothers and father, and of her mother dying alone. Carefully, Andromache stepped out of the bed; she didn't wish to wake her husband who remained sleeping. She wrapped a shawl around herself and then stepped out onto the balcony, and looked out into the pitch black night.

Andromache looked up to the sky and saw the stars shinning brightly above her; she remembered how Podes, her brother, had told her the names of certain stars. She had been engrossed within Podes' words of how the stars had been named.

Warm arms suddenly wrapped themselves around Andromache's waist. She rested her head on Hector's chest, and continued to look up to the heavens.

"You should return to bed," said Andromache, and turned to look at her husband, "you need to rest after your long voyage." She then walked back into the chamber and poured herself some water.

"I'm fine," said Hector and followed Andromache, "it's you I'm worried about."

Andromache put her cup of water down beside the bed and walked up to her husband. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Don't worry about me my love. I'll be alright."

Hector nodded, although he knew his wife was lying, she was only attempting to be strong. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Andromache buried her head in Hector's night robe; she clung onto him and began to cry once more. She'd never be able to pretend with Hector, he'd always know when she was. Her eyes suddenly caught sight of Hector's old shield, the shield she had hit Paris with while he fought with Alexander. Andromache knew she'd have to tell her husband about Alexander, the guilt was becoming too horrendous to conceal any longer. "I need to tell you something."

"What is that?" asked Hector, and looked down to his wife.

"Alexander came to the chamber on the day you left," said Andromache, quietly. She waited for Hector to respond but he didn't, so she continued. "He told me why he killed your friend, and told me about Elora. Alexander thought I'd understand, and for a while I reminded him of Elora."

Hector drew himself away from Andromache; he then sat on the unmade bed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," said Andromache, she then rushed to her husband and knelt down before him, "he never wished to harm me. I thought I could help Alexander. I'm sorry that I disobeyed you, I just thought I could help him."

"Was Xanthe with you when Alexander came to you?" asked Hector, he already knew the answer but wished to hear it from his wife's lips.

"No," whispered Andromache, and lowered her head, "I sent her away soon after you'd left, I wished to be alone."

Hector stood up off the bed and walked around the room for a moment. "I instructed Xanthe to stay with you at all times, I did that so you'd be safe!"

"I _was_ safe," said Andromache, and once again walked over to her husband. She held his face in her slender, cold hands. "Alexander's gone now, he returned to the south." Andromache sighed heavily and continued. "While Alexander spoke to me, Paris came into the room. He immediately threw himself at Alexander and began to fight with him; he thought Alexander wished to harm me." She paused before speaking again. "I didn't know how else to end their fighting, so I hit Paris with your shield, then allowed Alexander to leave the palace."

Hector moaned and removed his wife's hand from his face. "I thought Paris was your friend!"

"He is!" insisted Andromache. "I knew that if I didn't hit Paris then he'd not allow Alexander to leave the palace freely."

"He didn't deserve to leave the palace freely," scowled Hector.

"He did," said Andromache, sternly. "I know that Alexander is a traitor and killed your dearest friend, but he lost someone too! He needed help, not to be locked away."

After a few moments of thought, Hector walked over to his wife, and kissed her. "Alexander is gone now; let us not worry about him anymore."

Andromache smiled and kissed her husband ardently. "Thank you."

Hector gently pushed Andromache down onto the bed and slowly made love to her.

------

Hector rose early the next morning, he saw that Andromache was still sleeping and smiled. She had been turning constantly in her sleep, obviously dreaming of her family. Only when Hector held Andromache in his arms, did she relax slightly.

After watching his wife sleep for a while, Hector stood up out of bed and dressed into a light robe. He ordered for breakfast to be sent to the chamber and gently woke Andromache when it arrived.

"How is it that you can still raise early after having little sleep?" asked Andromache, and smirked slightly.

"It's a gift," laughed Hector, and drank some more water. He watched as Andromache nibbled at a piece of bread, he knew that she wasn't hungry but ate to please him so he wouldn't worry. "I've nothing planned today, not even a meeting, so what would you like to do?"

Andromache knew that Hector was trying to occupy her thoughts with things other than her family and was grateful to him. "Could we go for a ride?" She knew that riding would clear her mind, and hadn't rode Hermione since she had rode to the beach and met Alexander there for the second time.

Hector nodded and stood up from the table; he walked over to his wife and kissed her smooth lips. "Of course my love, I'll go to the stables now and prepare the horses. Come when you're ready."

Andromache nodded and watched as her husband left. She then stood up from the table and quickly dressed herself into a turquoise coloured robe. Andromache decided to leave her hair flowing down her back, she didn't wish to have Hector wait for her while she prepared her hair perfectly for a mere horse ride.

As Andromache neared the stables she could see Hector was so heavily absorbed with talking to Hermione and Helenus, that he didn't even hear Andromache walk behind him, he only noticed her presence when she reached up and kissed the nape of his neck.

"Talking to horses again are we my love?" asked Andromache, and smiled cheekily.

Hector laughed. "I find the conversation much more pleasing than ones I have with you."

Andromache playfully nudged Hector and mounted Hermione, and watched as her husband mounted Helenus.

"Where would you like to go?" asked Hector.

"Are there any lakes near the walls of Troy?" asked Andromache, and then suddenly remembered the lake in Thebe she had loved. She imagined Thebe on the night it was attacked: fires blazing high into the sky, women and children screaming, men fighting for their lives but only to have them ended by ruthless men. She thought of her brothers protecting their wives and children, her father protecting her mother.

Andromache dismounted her horse, and then exhaled deeply. She grabbed Hermione's reins and looked up at Hector who returned the gaze, he looked at her oddly for a moment, but as he continued to look at her, he understood.

"I can't do it today," said Andromache, quietly, "I just want to return to our chamber."

Hector nodded and dismounted Helenus. "Go to the chamber, I'll return the horses to their stalls."

Andromache kissed her husband's cheek and then hurried away to their chamber. Once she had entered her chamber, she slammed the door behind her and fell to the floor. Her eyes then landed on a shawl given to her by her mother. Andromache rushed to the shawl and quickly smelt it, wishing to smell the sweet scent of her mother. No trace of her mother's scent existed on the shawl now, instead it smelt of her.

Hector entered the chamber after returning the horses to their stalls; he saw his wife clasping onto the shawl her mother had given her a few weeks before she came to Troy. He walked over to Andromache and embraced her tightly.

"I can't bare it any longer," cried Andromache, and clung onto Hector so tightly that he could feel her nails dig into his skin. She clung onto him firmly because she feared she'd lose him as well. "I can't bare the thought of my family being dead, their throats slit by _damned Achilles_! He has taken everything away from me … everything except _you_."

-----

A/N: Thank you once more for the reviews, I greatly appreciate them! :)

**Merry Christmas!**


	23. Chapter 23

The sun rose slowly above Troy, signaling a year since Prince Hector had married Princess Andromache. A year since Hector had taken Andromache from the path of maidens and watched her blossom into a woman. A year since Andromache had given herself to the man she loved.

Since Hector had returned from Thebe and told Andromache of the death of her family, their lives had passed quite happily, although Andromache still grieved over the loss of her beloved family. Andromache had accepted that her family would never return to her, she no longer cried when she saw or heard something that reminded her of them, but she'd always have that feeling inside of her, that pain.

As the sun began to shine through Hector and Andromache's chamber, Hector rose and dressed himself. He kissed his wife who slept on, and his eyes wandered over her face. Hector was always reminded of how delicate and innocent his wife was when she slept; when she was awake she never dared to show her emotions to anyone, except from a few people she trusted dearly, but in sleep she was vulnerable.

Andromache moved slightly, and her eyes slowly opened. She smiled when she saw Hector hovering over her. "Good morning."

"Good morning," replied Hector and kissed his wife. "Happy Anniversary, my love."

"Happy Anniversary," said Andromache, and smiled widely.

Hector lay down on the bed and Andromache cuddled up next to him. She placed his hand in her own and began to gently caress it.

A thought had long been circling around Andromache's head, and only now had she gathered the courage to speak about it with Hector. "Are you upset that we've been married for a year and that we have no children?"

Hector looked down to his wife, an odd expression spreading across his face. He had barely thought about children since he married Andromache. "I'm not upset, are you?"

"Yes," said Andromache quietly, "but only because I fear that you and your family are upset that I've not provided you with children."

Hector sat up, causing Andromache to sit up also. "Never fear that you'll grieve me or my family for not having children. We've only been married for a year, there's more than enough time for us to have them. The gods will honour us with children Andromache; we just have to wait until they do."

Andromache nodded and embraced her husband. "I do not deserve you Hector."

"I often feel I don't deserve you," replied Hector, and smiled. "Now, what would you like to do today?"

"Shall we have breakfast in the gardens now?" suggested Andromache.

A knock was heard on the door; Hector turned away from his wife and walked over to the door to answer it. Andromache was about to step out of the bed, but realised that she was naked, and decided to remain in the bed. She smirked as she remembered the previous night with her husband.

Hector sighed aloud when he opened the door and saw that Paris stood outside of it, grinning madly. "What is it Paris?"

Paris tried to enter the room but Hector stood in his way, Hector knew that Andromache was undressed and didn't wish for his brother to see her.

"Father wishes to speak with you," answered Paris, and once again tried to enter the chamber. "Why won't you let me in? I'll keep Andromache entertained while you speak with father."

"Andromache is undressed and she'll be fine by herself while I talk with father," said Hector.

Paris smirked, and tried to look into his brother's chamber. He didn't wish to see Andromache undressed, he only wished to tease his brother. Hector scowled and pushed Paris away from the door.

"Paris!" warned Hector, his tone growing dangerous.

"I'm going!" cried Paris, and laughed before walking down the hall.

Hector stepped into his chamber, closing the door firmly behind him. He turned to see Andromache dressing and sighed heavily. "Father wishes to speak with me; I'll try and return quickly."

Andromache groaned. "You never return quickly from speaking with your father."

"I know," said Hector, and walked over to his wife. He helped Andromache with the last clasp of her robe and then kissed her. "He'll know what day it is, and if he doesn't then I'll remind him, so he won't keep me long. Why don't you order food to be brought out to the gardens and I'll meet you there?"

"Very well," said Andromache, and kissed her husband. She watched Hector leave and then began preparing her hair. Andromache rarely called for Xanthe to help her in the mornings with her hair or jewelry now.

As soon as Andromache had finished with her hair, she stood up from her chair and left the chamber. She walked down the hall leading to the kitchens, and had almost reached them when she saw Cassandra lying on the floor, unconscious. Andromache raced to her friend's side and tried to wake her, but she remained lifeless.

No servants walked down the halls, which surprised Andromache at first, but then she realised that the route she had taken to the kitchens wasn't usually used as it longer path to them. She looked around madly, and then she screamed for help because she didn't wish to leave her friend, but when no one came she realised that she must look for help.

Andromache clambered to her feet and began to run down the hall from where she had came, although when she turned to look at Cassandra again she saw that she was moving. Andromache turned and returned to her friend.

"Andromache what are you doing here?" asked Cassandra, startled to see her friend. She tried to stand to her feet but couldn't obtain the energy.

"I found you unconscious on the floor," answered Andromache. "What happened?"

Cassandra tried to step onto her feet once more and succeeded. "Nothing, I just fainted." She looked to Andromache but quickly turned away, she bit her lip to hold back the sobs that wished to be realised from her mouth. Cassandra quickly calmed herself, and turned once more to Andromache. "I think the heat affected me, I often faint in the summer months."

Andromache nodded, although she didn't believe her friend, but decided not to press Cassandra on why she had really fainted. "Would you like me to help you to your chamber?"

Cassandra nodded. "Thank you Andromache."

After Andromache had escorted Cassandra to her chamber in the women's quarters, she walked to the kitchens and ordered for food to be brought out to the gardens for her and her husband, and then she walked to the gardens. She was surprised to see that her husband already sat at a table in the gardens, he smiled when he saw Andromache nearing him.

Hector stood up to greet his wife, and kissed her softly.

"Andromache!" shouted a voice, which surprised both Andromache and Hector.

Andromache turned to see who had called her and was shocked to see Polyxena running towards her. "What is it Polyxena?"

"Cassandra is ill," panted Polyxena, with tears streaming down her face, "she keeps screaming for help. I didn't know what to do, I tried to find my mother but I can't."

"I'll come now," said Andromache, she then turned to her husband. "Try and find your mother, perhaps she can soothe Cassandra."

Hector nodded and hurried to find his mother, while Andromache and Polyxena rushed to Cassandra's chamber.

Cassandra lay on her bed with her eyes tightly closed and she turned constantly on it. She screamed so loudly it sent shivers through Andromache and Polyxena's spines. The screaming soon ceased but was instead replaced by heavy breathing. Andromache looked to her sister-in-law, shocked to see her in such a state.

Andromache went to Cassandra's side and felt her forehead, her temperature was quickly rising. "Get a cloth and some water, she's burning up."

Polyxena nodded and looked around the room for a basin full of water and a cloth; she quickly found what Andromache had asked for and gave it to her.

Andromache dipped the cloth into the water and then wrung it before dabbing it across Cassandra's forehead, hoping it would soothe her somewhat. She then looked to Polyxena who stood at the end of Cassandra's bed, looking terrified. "Hold her hand, try and calm her down."

Polyxena rushed to her sister's side, then held her hand tightly and began to stroke it. "It's alright Cassandra, everything's alright." Her eyes then met with Andromache's, neither of them had seen Cassandra like this before and they didn't know how to calm her.

The door suddenly opened and Hecuba burst into the room, Andromache was shocked to see that Hector was closely behind his mother. Hecuba hurried to her daughter's side and ushered Polyxena out of the way, she then held her daughter's hand within one of her own, and then with her other hand she gently caressed Cassandra's forehead.

"It's alright my dear," soothed Hecuba, and released a few tears, but quickly gathered her composure. She then noticed Andromache and Polyxena's worried expressions, and smiled sadly. "This has happened before, though it hasn't happened since Paris was born. She'll calm down soon."

Andromache looked to Hector for an explanation to Hecuba's words, but he shook his head a little.

"You may go now," said Hecuba, to her children and Andromache, "she'll be alright."

Hector took his wife's hand and they left the women's quarters together and headed for their chambers. Neither Hector nor Andromache spoke while they walked to their chamber, but as soon as they had entered their chambers, Andromache looked at her husband with bewildered eyes.

"The same thing happened to Cassandra when Paris was born?" asked Andromache.

Hector sighed and nodded, he then brushed his right hand through his hair. "Cassandra dreamt, just before Paris was born, that he would cause Troy to fall. Then when my mother was in labour with Paris, Cassandra ran through the palace shouting _death to Troy_."

Andromache sat down at the table and rubbed her forehead. "Paris knows?"

"He does," answered Hector. "Paris never speaks of it, not even to Cassandra. My father told Paris, all of us actually, that Cassandra was only jealous that another child was being born into the family and was merely seeking attention."

"Do_ you _believe that?" asked Andromache.

"I do not know," replied Hector, quietly. "We don't speak of what Cassandra said, or her visions now. Please don't speak to Paris about what happened today or that you know it's happened before, he's older now so he may be more awkward with the situation."

Andromache nodded. "I won't. Do you think Cassandra will be alright?"

"Yes," replied Hector, "she'll be fine." He then walked over to Andromache and sat beside her. "This will be an Anniversary to remember."

-----

A/N: I know that Hecuba dreamt that Paris would be the cause to the downfall of Troy, but I changed it to Cassandra having a dream/vision just before Paris was born, instead.

Thank you for the reviews!! :) I hope everyone has a great New Year. Also, just a little note to Donna Lynn: I commented in the reviews as to why I switched some chapters of the fic, I just wanted to mention it here in case you hadn't seen it.


	24. Chapter 24

Night had now fallen over the country of Troy, therefore Hector and Andromache had crept into their beds in hopes of sleep consuming them, but sleep did not come to them.

Hector and Andromache lay awake in their bed, nestling against each other. They had decided to remain in their chamber for the rest of their Anniversary, and they waited anxiously for word on Cassandra, which still hadn't come.

Hector needed to tell Andromache why his father had wished to speak to him earlier that day, but he didn't wish to see Andromache's reaction when he told her. A few moments passed by as Hector summoned the strength to speak to his wife. "My father called for me today because he wishes for me to sail to the west and settle a treaty with a country there."

Andromache breathed in deeply but remained silent.

"Only a few men will be sailing with me," continued Hector, "and I do not expect the voyage to be more than four weeks."

"Four weeks?" whispered Andromache; she wished to scream at Hector for speaking like four weeks wasn't long to be separated from the person you love. She lowered her head and sighed inwardly; she was the wife of a warrior and Prince, she knew that her husband would sail away many times before their lives ended.

"I'm sorry Andromache," said Hector and kissed his wife.

Andromache raised her head and smiled. "You can not help it, my love. I'm sure four weeks will pass quickly while you're away."

Hector nodded. "My father also thought Paris should accompany me and help seal the treaty."

"Does your father wish to deprive me of all my company?" laughed Andromache, although she didn't find anything amusing about Paris leaving with her husband. She knew that she would have company while her husband and brother-in-law were away, but Paris always occupied her successfully when Hector left Troy.

"No," replied Hector, ignoring his wife's glaring eyes, "my father thinks that by giving Paris some responsibility, it will help him stop acting like a child."

"A fine idea," said Andromache, honestly. Her own brother, Podes, had also shown little interest in growing up but once he had been forced to join Thebe's army, he finally grew into a man. "When will you leave Troy?"

"In two days time," answered Hector, his tone lowering with each word he spoke.

"The sooner you're gone," said Andromache, and smiled weakly, "the sooner you'll return."

Hector nodded, and jumped slightly when he heard a knock on his chamber door. He stepped out of the bed and quickly dressed into the skirt he had worn that day, leaving his chest bare, and answered the door.

Polyxena stood outside the door and smiled sadly when she saw her brother. "Mother sent me to tell you that Cassandra is well now, she woke a few hours ago and is now resting." She greeted Andromache who had walked to the door and now stood beside her husband.

"Would your mother like me to sit with Cassandra while she slept?" asked Andromache.

"I do not know," replied Polyxena, "I don't believe she wished to leave Cassandra, but I do think my mother needs to sleep, although she won't admit it."

"I'll walk with you to Cassandra's chamber and ask your mother," said Andromache, and wrapped her robe around her more tightly. She turned to Hector. "I'll come back if your mother wishes to stay with Cassandra, and if she allows me to stay with Cassandra while she sleeps, then I'll stay there."

"Shall I walk with you to the women's quarters?" asked Hector.

Andromache shook her head. "No, you sleep now." She kissed her husband goodbye and then walked with Polyxena to Cassandra's chamber, which was inside the women's quarters.

Polyxena and Andromache were silent while they walked to Cassandra's chamber. Hecuba still remained in the same place she had when Andromache and Hector left her, although now she sat on a chair and kept her hands to herself while her daughter slept.

Hecuba looked up when Andromache and Polyxena entered the room; she smiled at her daughter and daughter-in-law, and stood to greet them.

"I didn't expect to see you here Andromache," said Hecuba, and returned to her chair, "is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything is perfectly fine," answered Andromache. "I came here with Polyxena to ask you if you'd like me to watch over Cassandra while you sleep."

Hecuba smiled kindly. "That's very kind of you Andromache, but I'd prefer to stay here."

"Are you sure?" persisted Andromache. She could see beneath the rays of the moonlight that Hecuba had dark shadows beneath her eyes, and that her eyes were bloodshot. "I'll send for you if Cassandra wakes, at least sleep while she does."

Silence ensued for a few moments, but then Hecuba suddenly rose to her feet and turned to look at Andromache. Andromache was slightly startled to see how pale Hecuba had grown during the day; she looked into her eyes and saw an enormous pain there, a pain so great that it spilled from her eyes and trickled down her face in the form of tears.

"Polyxena, please return to your chamber now, you need to sleep," said Hecuba, and made no attempt to remove the tears from her face.

Polyxena looked oddly at her mother, but did as her mother had ordered and left Cassandra's chamber, closing the door quietly behind her.

"I'll return to my chamber now and sleep," said Hecuba, "please call me if Cassandra wakes." She then left the room, giving no explanation as to why she was crying.

Andromache looked at her mother-in-law as she left, haunted by the look in Hecuba's eyes, and in years to come Andromache would be even more haunted by that look, when she realised that it meant.

She sighed heavily and sat in the chair Hecuba had by Cassandra's side. Staying awake all night was not new to Andromache, as a child she had competed against her brothers to see who could remain awake for the longest.

The hours passed by and Cassandra slept on, Andromache was amazed at how peaceful and calm she looked now compared to how she had looked earlier. She stood up from her chair and walked over to the balcony, wishing to breathe in the cool night air.

The night Andromache had first arrived in Troy suddenly swam into her mind; she smiled upon recalling the distant memory.

"It's an incredible evening. I can't remember the air being as cool as it is tonight, the seasons must be changing."

Andromache leapt with fright and turned to see Cassandra standing behind her, she hadn't even heard her walk up behind her. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was," said Cassandra, simply.

"I should go to your mother," said Andromache, she felt awkward around Cassandra for some reason; a strange ambience could be felt oozing from her eyes. "She wanted me to tell her if you woke."

Cassandra gripped onto Andromache's arm, not tightly though, and held her friend back from leaving the room. "Leave my mother, she'll sleep rarely now, so she needs every last drop of slumber." She then smiled kindly, to calm Andromache's sudden frightened face.

"Would you like me to call for Polyxena?" asked Andromache, nervously. She didn't wish to be alone with Cassandra.

"No," said Cassandra, her smile slowly faded and was replaced with a sad expression, "Polyxena no longer knows how to act around me. She fears me, fears my words and looks towards her."

Andromache shook her head. "Polyxena doesn't fear you."

Cassandra said nothing; instead she turned her gaze to outside of the balcony. She felt the air breeze across her face and sighed happily, after a moment she turned to face Andromache once more. "I apologise for how I was today, you've a right to be anxious around me now. I'm not usually like I was today, so please … _please don't_ _fear me_."

Andromache looked at her sister-in-law sadly for a moment; she was shocked when Cassandra walked over to her and embraced her tightly, and then burst into tears. Andromache held onto Cassandra, not knowing what to do or say.

That night Cassandra revealed a side of herself she wouldn't again show to anyone, because after that night she composed herself and acted strongly, ignoring the fierce urge to allow the pent up wails of fear and horror to escape her mouth.

-----

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, I hope everyone had a good New Years.

Also, if you read Andromache and Hector fanfic, or write it yourself, then please consider nominating or submitting them to the Tragic Bliss Awards. For more information on these awards then please click my name at the top and click the link in my profile, thank you :)


	25. Chapter 25

The sun rose high above Troy, sunlight trickled into Andromache and Hector's chamber. Andromache groaned when she felt the burning, hot sun glaring upon her face. She slowly opened her eyes and sighed aloud, she turned to look beside her, where Hector usually slept, but he wasn't there.

Hector had sailed away to seal the treaty with the West, he left only the day before. Andromache had summoned the enormous courage to say goodbye to Hector in the entrance hall of the palace, along with the rest of his family. She restrained from allowing tears to escape her eyes when she watched her husband carefully walk down the stone steps from the palace and to his horse. Although she dug her nails into her clenched hands to succeed in the task of locking away her emotions while Hector departed from Troy.

Paris had also sailed away with Hector, although before he had left, he had protested mightily to his father. Paris had been silenced on this particular matter; it had only taken a stern look from Priam to silence his moaning son.

Andromache rose from her bed, after smelling Hector's pillow which still retained his scent. She slowly dressed, choosing to dress plainly as the day was hot despite the slow change of seasons, and called for Xanthe to help with her hair.

"Prince Hector will soon return," reassured Xanthe, as she clipped yet another piece of Andromache's hair into place, "you must keep your mind occupied while he's away, don't hide away in your chamber all day."

Andromache nodded, she knew Xanthe was right. "I think I'll go for a ride today, I'll ask Polyxena to join me."

"That'll be nice for you both," said Xanthe, and smiled cheerfully.

Once every last strand of Andromache's hair had been clipped high above her head, except from a few way ward strands, she stood up from her table and thanked Xanthe before leaving for the women's quarters.

Andromache entered the women's quarters, closing the door quietly behind her, and was overwhelmed by the smell of perfume, extremely strong rose smelling perfume. A giggle erupted from the corner of the communal sitting area, where Andromache now stood, and she quickly turned her eyes there.

Two young girls sat in the corner and allowed nervous expressions to spread across their faces, one looking no older than six with stunning dark brown curls falling from her head, and the other appearing to be no older than nine with straight, smooth light brown hair.

"Whose perfume is it that you hold?" asked Andromache, and focused her eyes on the clear bottle that was held by both girls, it only contained a few mere droplets of perfume now.

Amarante, the youngest girl, bowed her head slightly and spoke: "It is Polyxena's."

"Does Polyxena know you have her perfume?" asked Andromache, trying to keep her tone slightly firm.

Both girls shook their heads. They both lived in the palace, and were nieces of Priam. The girls were exceedingly close sisters, barely seen apart, and their parents had drowned while returning to Troy from the East. Amarante and Lysandra appeared to be almost identical, excepting the height difference and hair, but in their faces they both bore their mother's sweet and gentle smile, and their father's twinkling green eyes.

"You'll both need to apologise to Polyxena for using her perfume," said Andromache, firmly, "but now you will come with me to the marketplace where we will purchase a new bottle for her, then you'll apologise once we've returned."

Andromache then walked over to the girls and wiped away their tears in turn. She smiled kindly, knowing how sensitive Lysandra, the oldest girl, could be.

Taking a palace guard as their escort, Andromache and the young girls walked to the marketplace. Andromache released a relieved sigh when she saw how bare the marketplace was with people, she detested the marketplace on hot days when it was crowded with people.

Lysandra held onto Andromache's left hand, while Amarante held onto her right hand. The guard followed closely behind them, being careful not to step on the Princesses with his large feet.

Andromache smiled inwardly, hoping to do this with her own children one day. She led the two girls to a stall in the marketplace that sold perfume and various bath salts. A waft of sweet smelling perfume floated over to Andromache, she smiled and remembered the perfume Hector had given her a few months past.

"You may pick a perfume bottle for Polyxena, and I'll buy it, is that alright?" Andromache asked Amarante and Lysandra, and knelt down to their height.

The girls both nodded, they were surprised that they hadn't been heavily scolded for their crime, but they knew Andromache was a nice young woman and they loved her dearly because of it.

It took some time for Lysandra and Amarante to agree on which perfume to buy. Andromache thought her nose would explode from smelling dozens of different perfume, which the girls had held beneath her nose.

Andromache also thought that the girls would never decide which perfume was best, but was happily surprised when they both settled on a rose minted perfume. She bought the chosen perfume and set off to the palace with the young girls, with the palace guard still behind them.

The walk to the palace took longer than usual for Andromache, because Amarante was beginning to tire. Andromache carefully lifted Amarante into her arms and walked back with her balanced on her hip. The palace guard carried Lysandra in his arms, who also started to feel tired.

Noon had sprung over Troy as Andromache stepped into her chamber alone. She had led the girls to their chambers, were they would quickly eat with their nursemaids and then have a long afternoon nap.

Polyxena wasn't to be found in her chamber, or anywhere in the women's quarters. Andromache had promised both Lysandra and Amarante that she would return to the women's quarters later that afternoon when they presumed Polyxena would return.

After eating lunch with Xanthe out on her balcony in her chamber, Andromache decided to take a stroll to the stables and groom Hermione, despite knowing the fact that Hermione was groomed daily by the stable hands.

Boredom was slowly sinking into Andromache's mind, and she needed to occupy herself. She walked slowly to the stables, wishing to pass time, but also wishing to admire the beauty of Troy's palace.

Andromache's soft sandals turned around a corner, revealing a bricked path to the stables. She gasped aloud when she saw Polyxena at the stables entrance, although it wasn't the sight of her dear friend that startled her, it was the sight of a stable hand kissing Polyxena's lips.

Polyxena blushed furiously. She hadn't yet seen Andromache; instead she blushed at the gentle kiss that had been bestowed upon her. She muttered sweet, loving words to the stable boy and left, walking in the direction of the palace and the hall Andromache now stood in.

Andromache frantically rushed to the hall she had turned from, only moments ago. She waited around the corner, hoping to not be seen by Polyxena. Andromache didn't know how to react, although she knew that she needed to confront Polyxena about what she had seen.

As a maiden and Princess, Polyxena had to leave herself pure for her future husband. It was dishonourable to receive a kiss from a man that wasn't her husband, or soon to be her husband.

Polyxena's sandals could be heard pressing against the stone floor, she hummed quietly to herself and turned down the hall Andromache stood in. A startled look quickly flashed across both of their faces, but both composed themselves.

"I did not expect to see you here Andromache," said Polyxena, noticing how shaky her voice sounded.

"I came to see Hermione," said Andromache, and looked up and down the hall to see if anyone walked down it, but no one did. "Come with me, to my chamber, I must speak with you."

Polyxena said nothing, but obeyed Andromache's words and followed her to the chamber. Once Andromache had shut her door firmly, she sighed heavily and sat down at the table.

"I saw you kissing a stable boy Polyxena," said Andromache, she didn't wish to dance around the subject and so decided to be frank with her friend.

At first it seemed like small tears were streaming down Polyxena's bowed head, but when she slowly raised it, it showed that nothing stained her face. She sat down at the table beside Andromache. "What will you do now?"

"I'll speak of this to no one," Andromache admitted. She was severely close to Polyxena, she wouldn't dare to jeopardise their friendship. Andromache allowed silence to follow her words for a moment, but then chose to speak again: "Do you love this boy?"

"He isn't a boy," whispered Polyxena, "he is twenty-two years old." She, also, was silent for a moment before speaking again: "And I do not love him, I'm merely attracted to his behaviour towards me."

Andromache nodded, although she didn't believe Polyxena's words on not loving the man. "Do you think he loves you?"

"I do not know," answered Polyxena, "nor do I care. We aren't courting one another, I wouldn't wish to, even if I were allowed. Sometimes I return his charming words towards me, but no more."

"Polyxena!" cried Andromache. "You need to care if he loves you, what if he asks Priam for your hand in marriage? A marriage between you both would never be possible, but if he loves you then he may venture to ask your father."

"I know," replied Polyxena, gravely, "that is why I can't see him again. By you seeing Nickolas and I together, it has forced me to see how foolishly I've acted."

Andromache nodded, although she couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness towards this man called Nickolas, he couldn't even have a say in whether or not he could be with Polyxena.

"Will you tell him?" asked Polyxena, her voice sounding urgent and panicked.

"Tell him what?" cried Andromache; although she had a feeling she knew what her friend would say next.

"Will you tell Nickolas that I won't be able to see him anymore?" asked Polyxena.

"Polyxena you need to tell him yourself!" Andromache scowled. "The poor man will be heartbroken; I will not be your messenger."

Polyxena stood up from the chair and was about to leave when Andromache groaned and called her back.

"Polyxena, where are you going?" exclaimed Andromache, who stood from her chair and walked over to her friend who had now turned to face her.

"Cassandra asked me to sit with her this evening," said Polyxena, quietly.

Andromache bowed her head, she knew that Cassandra spent many hours of the day in her chamber now, her face had rapidly grew pale and her eyes grew more sullen after each time she stepped out of her chamber. Cassandra barely spoke to her family, but she did cast odd glances in their direction when she saw them. She wished to see no one, not even Andromache who she thought of as a sister.

Andromache was slightly surprised that Polyxena had been invited to sit with Cassandra, she raised her head and realised that Polyxena was lying to her. "Please do not lie to me, we are friends Polyxena."

"You're right," sobbed Polyxena, unexpectedly allowing tears to flood from her eyes, "I'm sorry Andromache … I do not know what is wrong with me."

"You love him, don't you?" said Andromache, knowing the answer to her question. She looked at Polyxena with pity rising within her eyes; she knew that nothing could ever come of such love to a stable hand.

"I do!" cried Polyxena, hysterically and sank down to the floor. "I love him so much Andromache, I love him so passionately."

Andromache sat down beside Polyxena and embraced her tightly. "Your father will never approve Polyxena, I wish that he would but he will never consent to allowing you to marry a man…-,"

"So below my station as a Princess of Troy," whispered Polyxena, completing Andromache's words. "I know this, but I can't stop loving Nickolas, I don't want to be parted from him!"

"I'm truly sorry Polyxena," said Andromache, and wiped away her friend's tears, "but you must end whatever attachment you have with Nickolas, if you don't do it now then it will only become harder for you."

"I'll run away," said Polyxena, strongly, "I'll elope with Nickolas." She stood up and violently wiped away her remaining tears, then straightened out the pale blue peplos she wore.

"You can't!" cried Andromache, loudly. "If you were found then your father would kill Nickolas, do you want Nickolas to be killed?"

Polyxena shook her head furiously, releasing more tears. "I love him."

Andromache nodded, she could no longer think of words to calm her friend because there were none. She could clearly see how dearly Polyxena loved Nickolas; she could feel it from every word her friend had spoken. Andromache hugged her friend once more, but said no more.

----

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, I really do appreciate them as they spur me on to write. Please review if you read this, I love to read what people think of it :)

I'm going to _try_ and bring Hector back into the next chapter, although I don't know how I'm going to do that as I haven't even started it yet. Nickolas, Amarante and Lysandra are just characters I've created, in case anyone was wondering.

Also, I really need to know if there's a limit to how many chapters you can have in a fic here, does anyone know? I'd like to have the whole story of Till death do us part in one fic, without sequels, so if anyone knows the answer to my question then please tell me :)

Once again: Please consider nominating fics, or submitting your own stories, to the Tragic Bliss awards. Please click my username and go to my profile if you're interested in these awards.


	26. Chapter 26

Four weeks had passed since Hector and Paris had left Troy for the East, it seemed like an eternity for Andromache. They had still not returned, which caused fear to arise in the stomachs of those dear to the two Princes and crewmen.

Andromache turned away from looking out of the balcony in her chamber; she had watched the sun rise and watched as the merchants of Troy prepared their stalls in the distant marketplace. For the last week Andromache had risen early and watched the sea for hours, hoping the ship bearing Hector would be caught in her sight.

Polyxena lay on Andromache's bed, sleep still consumed her. For the past few weeks since Andromache had seen Polyxena being kissed by Nickolas, Polyxena had slept in Andromache's chamber. Andromache didn't mind, she enjoyed Polyxena's company and it kept her mind occupied with thoughts other than Hector and why his return to Troy was delayed.

Only a few days after Andromache had seen Polyxena with Nickolas, Polyxena went to Nickolas and broke any attachment they had. Polyxena had spent an entire day with Nickolas; both had left the walls of Troy and rode to a lake they loved. Both had known that they would never be together, they hated their situations in life because of it but nothing could be done about it now. The gods had awarded them such stations in life, or so they thought, and they would not curse them because of it.

Polyxena had made love to Nickolas on the last day she spent with him, she wished to be taken from the path of maidens by a man she truly loved, not some man she would be ordered to marry. She had decided to tell Andromache this; being so heartbroken she wished to confide in someone and only trusted Andromache.

At first Andromache was shocked, she feared that Priam would somehow find out and have Nickolas killed, but Polyxena reassured her that no one would ever know. Andromache admired Polyxena for it, she knew how much she loved Nickolas and this would be an ending to their love, the only ending possible.

Sadness still swept through Polyxena though; night after night she would lie awake and cry. She hated being parted from the man she loved, she had even raced to her father's chamber one afternoon because she wished to confess all to him and persuade him to allow her to marry Nickolas, but Andromache managed to hold her back. Andromache knew, as well as Polyxena, that if Priam ever found out about Polyxena's relationship with Nickolas, then he would be killed and her reputation would be torn apart.

Polyxena stirred and her eyes slowly opened, she looked around the chamber and smiled when she saw Andromache walking towards her. Andromache had been a great comfort to Polyxena; she would always lay awake with Polyxena and comfort her while she cried. It had been Andromache's suggestion for Polyxena to stay in her chamber with her; Andromache knew that Polyxena needed her more now than ever.

"I will need to leave this chamber soon," said Polyxena and sat up. "Hector will soon return and he'll not want me here."

"You are welcome to remain her for as long as you like," said Andromache, "Hector would not mind."

Polyxena laughed at the thought, both she and Andromache knew that he would mind, but it was always enjoyable to tease Hector. "Where would I sleep?"

"You may sleep on this bed with me," smirked Andromache, "and Hector may sleep in a chair."

Both women laughed, but Polyxena soon controlled her laughter and spoke: "No, I must return to my chamber, if I don't go now then I never will. I must learn to live with this pain, it will never ease, there's no such remedy." She bowed her head and looked down to her hands.

Andromache gazed at her friend, turning her head slightly. She had understood Polyxena's words so perfectly, she knew there was no remedy for a broken heart and she wished she would feel the pain her friend did now.

Polyxena embraced her friend and then stood up off the bed. She pulled a cloak around her before speaking: "Thank you Andromache, you've been a great friend to me."

"You're welcome," said Andromache, and smiled sadly. She watched as Polyxena left the room and returned to her own chamber.

As the day was still young, Andromache dressed and decided to ride Hermione. She knew that there was a slight chance she could see Nickolas, but he had no reason to speak with her as she assumed he wasn't aware that she knew about Polyxena and himself.

Andromache quickly walked to the stables, she was surprised that Hermione was already out of her stall and was being brushed by a dark haired man who had his back to Andromache so she couldn't see who he was. She slowly walked to Hermione's side and saw that it was Nickolas who groomed her horse.

Nickolas bowed before Andromache and greeted her formally, before returning to his task of grooming Hermione. He hummed soothingly to Hermione as he brushed her; he blushed slightly when he noticed that Andromache was still watching him intently.

"My Princess, is there anything you wish for?"

Andromache shook her head, still hypnotized by the mans gentle humming that rung in her ears, despite the fact that he had now stopped and had drawn his attention to her. She looked at the man; he was certainly an attractive man with dark brown hair and rich green eyes. For a moment Andromache stood and gazed at Nickolas, imagining what his and Polyxena's children could look like if they were to marry, they would certainly have been beautiful.

"I … I came to prepare Hermione for riding," stuttered Andromache.

Nickolas smiled and unhooked Hermione's reins from the wall he had hooked them in while he had groomed her, and then held them tightly within his hand. "I'll prepare her now if you'd like."

"That would be wonderful," said Andromache and smiled, "thank you."

Nickolas nodded and led Hermione over to her stall; he hooked her reins over a bar outside of it and then began to prepare her for riding. Andromache followed him and rested her back on the wall of Hermione's stall and watched Nickolas.

"How long have you worked at the palace stables?" Andromache asked.

"Since I was a boy," answered Nickolas and smiled at the memory of his first day of working at the stables, "I started when I was eight, so I've been working here for fourteen years."

"That is an awfully long time to be working here," said Andromache, "do you never tire of the same work each day?"

Nickolas grinned and looked at Andromache, he knew the answer to her question but knew it was too bold to reply with, instead he chose to answer more wisely: "I'm fortunate to work here, not many men have a stable income."

Andromache nodded, she was truly fortunate for being a Princess and married to a man she loved, not many women or Princess's had what she did.

"How is Polyxena?" asked Nickolas, suddenly. He bowed his head slightly but continued preparing Hermione.

Andromache's eyes widened, she didn't know how to reply to him and she hadn't expected him to ask her such a question. Silence followed Nickolas' question, Andromache could see his body had tensed during the silent moments that had passed, and she forced herself to reply: "Polyxena is … she is well. I know that she misses you, but knows it will hurt you both more if she were to come and see you."

"I wish I could see her again," said Nickolas, quietly. "I see short glimpses of her as she walks around the palace, but I'll never see more than that now." He finished preparing Hermione and turned to look at Andromache. "Do you think there is any chance that I may continue to see her secretly?"

"Of course there is," said Andromache, "but if you both decide to do that then it will only result in making things harder for you both." She paused before speaking again, knowing how sharply her words would sting Nickolas: "Polyxena is a Princess, she is nearing the age when she is expected to marry … if you both see one another in secret then it will make your parting all the more harder when she has to leave with her husband."

Nickolas bowed his head, and bit his lip; he slowly raised his head and gazed sadly at Andromache. "I must see her, she is everything to me."

Andromache walked over to Nickolas and held his hands within her own, to comfort him. "I know she is …-,"

The heavy sound of footsteps was heard behind Andromache; she released her hands from Nickolas' and smiled broadly when she saw her husband walking towards her. Andromache turned from Nickolas and raced to her husband, incredibly thankful to the gods that he had returned safely to her.

Hector wore a confused and somewhat angered expression; he had seen Andromache holding the hands of a stable hand, a man he recognised. He continued to walk to Andromache who was still jogging towards him.

As Andromache neared her husband, she saw the expression he wore. She halted and gazed at her husband for a second, then abruptly turned to look at Nickolas. It suddenly registered in Andromache's mind; she shook her head vigorously and sprinted to her husband.

"NO!" shouted Andromache and sprinted to her husband. "It's not what you think Hector!"

Hector pushed past Andromache, ignoring her panicked eyes. He walked over to Nickolas, who now looked like a petrified rabbit.

"What is going on Andromache?" asked Hector, his voice rising.

Andromache stepped in front of Nickolas, and faced her husband. "This man has lost the woman he loves, I was merely comforting him Hector."

Hector stepped forward, but Andromache stepped nearer to him which caused him to step back.

"Please Hector," said Andromache, her voice low and desperate, "forget this man, and let us return to our chamber."

Nickolas flashed his eyes across Andromache, and then looked at Hector. He no longer looked petrified, but still held an expression of nervousness. Nickolas, as well as the other people of Troy, grew to know Hector as the greatest warrior in all of Troy. Apollo himself protected Hector, or so young children were told. It was understandable for Nickolas to be tense when faced with Prince Hector.

Hector studied Nickolas carefully, his eyes stern and his appearance intimidating. He soon nodded and left with Andromache, who walked behind him while they walked to their chamber.

-----

A/N: I'm just going to carry on with this story, and have it with as many chapters as need be. If there comes a time when I reach a limit for the amount of chapters in this fic, then I'll need to do a sequel, but hopefully that won't happen.

**Storm Dragoness – **Thank you for the review, I'm really glad that you're enjoying this fic!

**Kitera-n-Lil – **There probably isn't a limit to the amount of chapters you can have, I just wanted to make sure but thanks for answering my question, and thank you for the review!

**Donna Lynn – **I put Hector in the chapter, lol! Thank you for the review, I'm going to keep Hector home in Troy now, he'll only leave it one more time.

**Ms. Selly – **Wow! You read the whole story in one sitting!? Gosh that must have taken some time, thank you for reading it! Thank you so much for your review, I'm really flattered, thanks!

**Luke Skywalker – **Thank you for the review, I really appreciate it!


	27. Chapter 27

Andromache quietly shut the door to her and Hector's chamber, she watched her husband walk around the room and familiarize himself with objects he had not seen for weeks. His armor shone with the light seeping in from the balcony, and Andromache smiled weakly, she had lost count of the amount of times she had seen that armor blaze beneath the sun. He turned to look at her, which caused her to lower her head.

"Why were you _comforting_ a stable hand?" he asked, he spoke calmly but Andromache could detect a hint of annoyance in his smooth voice.

"I told you Hector," Andromache said slowly, "I was comforting the man because he lost the woman he loves."

Hector shook his head. He was weak and tired from being away from Troy for so long, a storm had hit his ship which caused the delay of returning. Hector stared at his wife, his eyes wide and sad because so many scenarios of what Andromache's relationship was with the stable hand now spun through his head.

"Please Andromache; please do not lie to me." He said quietly.

Andromache raised her head and walked to where her husband stood; she lifted his bowed head with her fingers and gazed into his eyes. "I'm not lying to you Hector."

"Do you expect me to believe that a stable hand poured his heart out to you?" whispered Hector, and looked back into his wife's eyes.

"Yes," Andromache whispered, she whispered so quietly that Hector could barely hear her words and instead read the movements of her mouth to understand what she was saying. "Please Hector, please believe me." She bowed her head, feeling the sting of tears gathering in her eyes, she had to make Hector believe her.

If Andromache failed in lying to her husband effectively, then he would not rest until he had answers to every question about the entire matter, which would mean Polyxena and Nickolas' secret would be revealed. Andromache would not allow her friends lover to be killed, she would make her husband believe her no matter how badly the guilt struck at her insides.

Hector looked at his wife, and his eyes softened slightly when he looked into her anxious blue eyes. He remembered the first time he had seen Andromache, seen her by the lake in Thebe, at the time he had thought her to be a beautiful woman who he presumed lived in Thebe, he never dared believe she would be his wife.

"You would not lie to me, would you?" He asked, and searched Andromache's eyes for even the slightest trace of deceit.

Andromache shook her head slowly; she breathed in heavily and looked at her husband. She felt guilt gurgle in the pit of her stomach. "I'm not lying to you Hector."

Those words stung Andromache bitterly and she clenched her fists tightly, allowing her nails to cut into her skin. She would never forgive herself for lying to her husband.

Hector smiled and kissed his wife. He then picked her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed. She helped him remove his armor and then her mind relaxed as he lay next to her on their bed. Andromache kissed her husband fervently, and made love to him.

----

Hector ran his fingers along Andromache's slender abdomen; she shivered by his ruff touch. Andromache made a mental note to herself that she must examine her husband's hands the next day and treat them with oils.

Moments of silence passed before Hector rose from the bed and walked over to where his clothes lay in a heap of the floor. He began to dress, choosing to dress into his skirt first.

Andromache watched her husband and sat up in their bed. She quickly stood up from their bed and tip-toed over to her husband, still naked. Andromache brushed past her husband, pretending to be going to where her peplos lay, but then she turned to her husband. She quickly untied his skirt and grinned cheekily as it fell to the floor.

Hector tried to hide a grin, but he did not succeed. He tried to pick up his skirt but Andromache stepped so close to him that her body touched every inch of him. He laughed. "I need to see my father, he only allowed me to find you and delay our talks if I promised to speak with him about the voyage no latter than noon!"

"But the treaty was signed!" moaned Andromache, and ran her fingers down Hector's chest. "The voyage was successful, what more can there be to discuss?" She knew there was an awful lot more to discuss, but she didn't want to be separated from her husband again, even if it was for a few hours.

"There's a lot more to discuss," said Hector, he gently moved Andromache a few steps away from him and picked up his skirt. He quickly tied his skirt around his toned waist.

Andromache walked over to the other side of the bed and picked up her peplos. She dressed into it and then sat down on the bed. She watched as her husband put on his shirt and sandals, and tidied his hair. Andromache didn't help him, she only watched him closely.

Hector walked over to his wife and knelt down in front of her, he kissed her forehead. "I love you Andromache."

"And I love you," replied Andromache.

She watched as her husband left their chamber. Andromache then held her head in her hands and bottled away the tears of guilt and grief.

-----

A/N: Quite a short chapter, but the next few should be the usual size again.

**DreamSprite – **Thank you for reviewing, I'm glad you like the story and I'll definitely continue to update.

**Lady Hades – **Lol! I'm sorry I update too quickly, I'm just excited to write the fall of Troy and explore that, although I'm not excited to write Hector dying. I will say that updates may not be as frequent because I'm quite busy at the moment. Thank you for the review!

**Kitera-n-lil – **Thank you, I'm really glad that you like the story and liked the last chapter. Thank you for the review!

**Donna Lynn – **So far I'm thinking that Hector will realise, or learn about the whole thing with Nickolas and Polyxena, but if it happens then it will probably soon, I'll try to make it happen. And thank you for reviewing!

**Spider (Queen Arwen) – **Thank you for the review! It's good that Hector is back, I don't like him being away so he'll not leave Troy again until he goes to Sparta.


	28. Chapter 28

Another year had passed, and another year of memories had been filled for Prince Hector and Princess Andromache. They had spent their second anniversary at a lake, unknown to all except for a few, select royals of Troy. They reflected over the past years spent together, both amazed at how quickly the time had passed. Hector packed food for them to eat during the course of the day, but they scarcely ate during the course of the day, instead they did other things…

Polyxena and Nickolas's secret was still concealed by themselves and Andromache. No one other than themselves would hear of the love between Polyxena and her Nickolas. If Polyxena ever entered the stable area then she would greet Nickolas accordingly, leaving no hint of her past relationship with him. Nor did she succumb to the great desire to place her lips upon Nickolas'. It was obvious; however, that Nickolas wasn't coping with the separation of Polyxena as well as she appeared to be. He would often return drunk to his home and smelling of wine the next morning. Nickolas also spent the night with many other women, something that was at first oblivious to Polyxena, because he wished to find someone who could replace Polyxena, but no one ever did.

Andromache had been the shoulder for Polyxena to cry on, when Polyxena heard of Nickolas' startling behaviour. Hector still remained ignorant to this, and he always would.

-----

A month had almost passed since Hector and Andromache's second anniversary. The sun slowly crept over the distant sea, causing its light to shimmer beautifully in the dark blue water. Hector had risen early to prepare four horses for a hunting trip he had secretly planned for himself, Andromache, Paris and Polyxena. Only he knew of this trip so far, although he knew his brother would be far from happy at the prospect of spending time away from Troy and its pretty maidens.

Hector returned to his chamber to find Andromache silently asleep. He smiled fondly at her; he loved to watch her peaceful form as she slept. After gazing at his stunning wife for a few moments, he quietly walked over to the bed and sat beside her. Hector then gently began to kiss Andromache's cheeks and neck, wishing to wake her with his soft kisses.

Slowly, Andromache opened her eyes. She smiled when she saw Hector peering over her and breathed in his scent of horses and hay, which caused her to grin even wider. Andromache looked over to the balcony and saw the sun only beginning to rise into the sky. She groaned and rubbed her eyes before kissing her husband.

"It's barely morning," she said, and playfully pushed her husband off her so she could sit up. Andromache sighed happily when she felt the cool, refreshing wind blow through the chamber from the balcony.

"My dear, you and I have a different definition of morning," said Hector, and grinned broadly.

"You are right, we do," said Andromache, "you're idea of morning is when dawn approaches…-,"

"And yours," interrupted Hector, "is the idea of sleeping till noon."

"Can you blame me Hector?" Andromache laughed, and recalled the previous night with her husband.

"Of course not," smirked Hector, and firmly planted a kiss on his wife's lips. He was silent for a few moments before speaking once more. "I've planned for us to spend a few days away from Troy; we're going on a hunting trip!"

"I'd rather not see animals slaughtered," Andromache mumbled as she stepped out of bed and went to her table. She rather enjoyed the idea of a hunting trip, excluding the barbarous killing of innocent animals before her eyes. Andromache didn't pretend to dislike meat, she loved it, but she would rather not see killing of animals. "I've never been on a hunting trip, my father forbid it. Please promise to me that I won't see you hunting?"

"I promise," said Hector, and walked over to Andromache; he then wrapped his arms around her as she sat in a chair at her table. "I don't think Polyxena will like to see me and Paris hunting either."

"Paris … Polyxena?" said Andromache, she turned to her husband with a confused expression spreading across her face. "They're coming with us?"

"Yes," murmured Hector, lowering his head a little, "I thought Polyxena could keep you company while I hunted."

"And Paris?" asked Andromache, she smiled slightly at the idea of Paris hunting. She had heard he was good at archery, but still had not seen him with a bow even though she had asked him, many a time, to watch as he shot arrows.

"I thought Paris could accompany me while I hunt," said Hector, raising his head. He immediately noticed Andromache's grin and laughed. "Paris is good at archery!"

"I'm sure he is," smirked Andromache, and began to brush her hair. "It's a nice idea to bring Polyxena and Paris with us; it will be an enjoyable trip."

"It will be," said Hector, he then walked over to his side of the bed and quickly brushed his hair. He hadn't put a brush through his hair for two days and felt slightly guilty. After he had made his hair a little tidier he stood up and walked over to Andromache. He kissed her neck tenderly. "I've already loaded my clothes on Helenus. When you've prepared yourself, gather a few peploses and a warm robe, and then meet me at the stables."

"Have you told Polyxena and Paris?" asked Andromache as her husband walked over to the door.

"No … I thought I'd tell them now," answered Hector, speaking very quietly. His cheeks reddened as he felt Andromache's glaring eyes scan over his face.

"Hector!" cried Andromache. She stood from her table and walked over to where her husband stood. "Polyxena and Paris are still sleeping and they may not even wish to go! You should have spoken with them before now!"

"I know," whispered Hector, sheepishly. "I'm sure they'd love to come though." He sighed heavily; he knew that Paris hated the outdoors and that Polyxena hated riding for long hours.

Andromache smiled weakly. She wrapped her arms around Hector's neck. "Go to Paris and make him come with us, I'll go to Polyxena."

"I thought you were going to prepare…-," said Hector.

"I don't need to have my hair beautifully prepared if I'm going to be riding all morning through forests," interjected Andromache. "It'll be quicker if I call for Xanthe to gather me some clothes while I wake Polyxena, and while you wake Paris."

"I love you Andromache," said Hector and kissed his wife passionately. "There are not many Princesses who wouldn't decorate their hair and faces before leaving their palace."

"Then you should be thankful to the gods that you have such an amazing wife," smirked Andromache. She kissed her husband and closed her eyes for a moment, before reopening them, she was faced by her husbands chocolate coloured eyes. Andromache explored his eyes, and smiled. "I love you."

-----

Hector and Andromache successfully persuaded Polyxena and Paris to join them on the hunting trip. Paris was less than pleased to leave maidens swooning at every flick of his delicious hair, and Polyxena was displeased to leave her chamber where she spent many hours of each day. After Hector and Andromache had spoken magical words to their friends, they finally accepted the kind invitation.

As Andromache left the woman's quarters with Polyxena, she considered going to Cassandra's chamber and asking if she wished to join them also. She pushed the thought from her mind; she knew Cassandra wouldn't wish to leave with them. Andromache had also heard, from Xanthe who knew all of the palace gossip, that Cassandra had panic attacks almost every week. The news saddened Andromache, she wished to see her friend that had shown nothing but kindness to her when she arrived in Troy, but she had been told by Hecuba that it would be best if Cassandra was left alone, even Polyxena was refused admittance to her sisters room.

Andromache rode on her horse, Hermione, Hector rode on Helenus and Polyxena and Paris rode on their own horses. Hector and Paris led the way out of the magnificent walls of Troy, and Polyxena and Andromache rode behind them.

The time passed by quickly as they rode to the forest. Men had already been sent to the forest earlier that morning to prepare tents for them to rest in once the Princes and Princesses arrived. The men would depart from the forest later that day, leaving the sons and daughters of Priam in the forest alone.

Hector and Paris talked merrily over memories of their childhood. Andromache smiled and listened while they spoke, she enjoyed listening to stories of her husband's childhood, he rarely spoke of it to her.

In some ways, for both Andromache and Hector, their lives had only begun once they met each other. Hector was continuously occupied with the army; he never allowed himself a moment of rest or peace except from a few rare occasions. Andromache was forever at her mother's side, being taught the many lessons of life. She didn't live for herself; instead she lived for her family. When Hector and Andromache met, they began to live for themselves and one another. They finally saw reason for life…

-----

A/N: I wanted to personally say thank you to the reviews again this time:

**Donna Lynn – **I've decided that Hector won't find out about Polyxena and Paris, but you're right, Hector would want to kill Nickolas for taking his sisters virginity. Thank you for the review as always! My email alerts were messed up for a couple of days too, but they're fine now.

**Eraserhead – **Thank you, I'm really glad that you're enjoying the story. Thank you for the review!

**Queen Arwen –** Thank you for the review! Hector naked is always a good thing ;) Of course you can tie Hector to a bedpost ;)

**Regina – **I'm not going to be following the movie "Troy" too much at the end, which is where the son is already born when war comes to Troy. Instead I'm going to follow the Iliad etc. Because I've decided to do that, Andromache won't have her son (Astyanax) until further on, just over a year or more before Troy finally falls (the war lasted 10 years). So he won't be around for a while yet, but don't worry I've not forgotten him :) Thank you for reviewing, and I'm glad you like the story!

**Kitera-n-Lil – **Thank you for the review! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter :)

**Aviella-Avuka-A-Fallen-Angel – **I'll try and update the story more frequently, and thank you for the review!


	29. Chapter 29

The pale cream coloured tents where Hector, Andromache, Paris and Polyxena would sleep in soon caught their sight. The wind quickly carried them to their destination, seeing how exhausted the Princes and Princesses appeared after such a long ride to the camp.

Enormous trees that shot up into the sky surrounded the tents, only a little amount of light was allowed to pass through their thick and crowded leaves. There were four tents set up in between a small empty space. In the centre of these tents there was a fire already lit, its smoke drifted up into the clear blue sky, and a few logs surrounded it. The men who had arrived earlier that day were not to be seen, but Hector had seen them pass while he rode to the forest, they were returning to Troy.

When they arrived at their camp, Hector immediately jumped from his horse and allowed Helenus to drink from the stream by their tents. He helped Andromache from her horse, and then proceeded to help Polyxena.

Paris dismounted his horse, a strangely peaceful expression spread across his face. His eyes quickly gazed around the small camp and he smiled. He remembered coming to this forest as a child, not to this exact place, but a very similar area nonetheless. There were only a few, rare amount of times when Priam would take his two sons hunting, and those times were still stored within Paris's mind.

"How many days will we be here?" Paris asked, once he had led his horse to the stream.

"Three of four," replied Hector. He walked over to the crackling fire, where his brother now stood and warmed his stiff hands.

Andromache and Polyxena withdrew to their tents to change into more comfortable clothes, their legs were incredibly sore after the long ride. Polyxena was to sleep in her own tent, as was Paris. Andromache and Hector were to share. Hector was at first concerned that Polyxena was to sleep on her own; he had considered having Andromache share with her while he and Paris shared. However, when Hector told this idea to Polyxena, she refused to be treated like a child, and so his plan was destroyed.

"I think I'll go for a walk," Paris suddenly said. He looked out to a faded path leading away from the camp and needed to wake his legs after the long ride.

"Alright," said Hector, "but be back soon."

Paris nodded, smirking slightly at how his older brother still treated him like a child. He thought, as he walked down the path, that he was still a child and that he may never grow up. There were times when Paris wanted to be a strong warrior and times, more often than not, when he succumbed to the pleasure women gave him.

After walking at least a mile, or so he estimated, Paris stopped and sat down in front of a large tree with crisp, golden leaves. He leant his back against the tree and sighed happily. Slowly, somewhat unaware of his actions, he allowed his eyes to close.

A sweet laughter filled Paris's ears and he was suddenly roused from peaceful slumber. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust and when they did, they quickly widened. Tens of trees and shrubs blocked Paris's view, but through a tiny gap in between the mass of greenery, he could see a beautiful maiden dancing alone. She danced magnificently and quietly hummed to herself as she danced in a small area not crowded with trees or bushes.

Paris's eyes searched the girl's face; she was so perfect with a crown of flowers around her head, and her light brown hair gracefully falling down her slender shoulders. He crept nearer to her, hiding himself behind a group of large shrubs, and saw her glistening green eyes sparkle as they caught the sun. Paris saw that her feet were bare and wondered how she could ever walk in such a forest with no sandals to protect her feet.

Suddenly, those light green eyes that captivated Paris, turned his way. A look of shock and fear flashed across her lightly tanned face. She turned to run, but Paris hastily scrambled to his feet and called out to her:

"I mean you no harm! I was merely resting on a tree behind me; I do not wish to frighten you."

The girl turned and looked at Paris, her eyes studied his face carefully and she turned pale for a moment, but quickly retained her colour. She knew the man before her; she knew he was Prince Paris of Troy. As a child she had learned the art of prophecy, she was well renowned from people who knew and heard of her, to be a maiden of wisdom and understanding.

"I am Paris," he said, noticing the look of fear still held within the girl's eyes.

The girl smiled, she was pleased to see that Paris did not use his title with her. "I am Oenone, daughter of the river God Cebren."

"You dance wonderfully," said Paris, smiling broadly.

"Thank you," replied Oenone, blushing slightly. She then looked away into the trees behind her, before turning to look at Paris once more. "I must go now."

"Can … can I see you again?" stuttered Paris, amazed that he was lost for words.

Oenone's cheeks reddened again. Despite knowing that her heart would be broken if she succumbed to Paris's wishes, she spoke softly: "If you wish to see me again, them come here again tomorrow." She then quickly fled into the trees behind her, leaving Paris ecstatic with the idea of meeting her again.

-----

The first day soon passed and Paris returned to camp, wearing a gleeful expression which Hector noticed he usually wore after being with a woman. Hector didn't question his brother on his obvious happiness, although he observed him carefully.

On the first night in camp Andromache cuddled up next to her husband in their bed, in the privacy of their own tent. She rested her head on his chest and smiled as her head rose up and down as he breathed in and out.

"Paris looked oddly cheerful this afternoon," said Andromache.

"I noticed," said Hector, deep in thought. After a moment or two he chose to speak again: "Has he said anything to you?"

"Me?" Andromache said. "Why would he talk to me?"

"You're his friend," answered Hector, and smiled. He was glad Andromache and Paris were close friends and he was never suspicious of their friendship, he knew Paris would never try and win Andromache's heart, and that she would never betray him. "I thought he might have spoken to you as to why he was so happy."

Andromache laughed quietly. "I suppose we do not see Paris happy enough, if we are now conversing over his unusually high spirits."

Hector nodded. He kissed his wife's head, breathing in her sweet scent that always happily astounded him. Then he and Andromache fell into the land of dreamers.

----

After many hours of continuous turning in his bed, Paris finally saw sunlight beam through the thin material of his tent. He hastily dressed and hurried from his tent, intending to go where Oenone had been the day before. He did not know when Oenone would be in the place she was before, so he planned to stay there all day in hopes of meeting her again.

As Paris tied up the entrance to his tent, he heard a few light footsteps behind him. He sighed, thinking it to be Polyxena, but as he turned around, he was astounded to see it was Hector.

"Are you going somewhere?" asked Hector, his face wore no expression, but his eyes searched within his brothers. He could always see if Paris was lying to him, he always knew.

"I was about to take a stroll through the forest," mumbled Paris, somewhat relieved that he wasn't completely lying, and hoped that neither his face nor eyes betrayed him.

"I'll come with you," said Hector, and smiled weakly.

"Err … no," Paris stuttered and his eyes filled with awkwardness, he paused for a moment while he thought of how to persuade his brother to remain in the camp, "I'd rather go alone … I find the walk _peaceful_, and you would only disturb me. And Andromache and Polyxena, you can't leave them alone, it could be dangerous."

Hector inhaled deeply, he knew his brother was right in saying it would be dangerous for his wife and sister to be alone, but he was still skeptical of his brother's desire to walk through the forest. "You're right, I'll remain here." He was silent for a minute of two and rubbed his chin before speaking in a low whisper. "Please Paris, don't cause any trouble."

"Trouble?" cried Paris and attempted to laugh but couldn't. He hated the cold stare his brother gave him and felt guilt thrash against the walls of his stomach.

Saying nothing, Hector walked away and stepped into his own tent.

Paris looked down to the ground and sighed heavily. There was no reason, he thought, for Hector to overreact over a simple matter as walking in the woods, but Hector knew him better than anyone else.

After a moment of deep thought, Paris raised his head slowly and walked into the forest, taking the same path he had the day before. He carefully tried to retrace his steps, recognizing different flowers and trees that he had seen on his previous walk in this direction. It took longer than he had hoped, but Paris eventually found the tree he had rested on the previous day. He walked through the shrubbery and beamed widely when he saw Oenone was there.

Oenone appeared exactly how she had looked to Paris on their first meeting, and her hair blew gently with the soft wind breaking through her hair as she sat on the grass.

"I didn't think you'd come," said Oenone, her voice low and each word was spoken carefully. She looked up to Paris and smiled weakly. "I'm glad you did come."

Paris smiled and sat down beside Oenone. It was difficult to describe how he felt when he was near her; he felt his skin tingle and the hairs on his arms spring up and wave towards her. His heart fluttered and began to beat quickly every time she glanced at him, as did hers when he dared to look at her. However silly it seemed, Paris felt a strong attachment grow between him and Oenone. He wished to know everything about her, usually he didn't care about women or maidens he was attracted to … but Oenone … she was different to him.

For hours they spoke together, recalling to each other every memory that they had savored within their hearts, speaking of both good and bad times they had passed through. Usually, Paris was cautious while speaking of things close to his heart, but with Oenone he felt utterly relaxed and at peace to speak of anything that floated through his untroubled mind.

Night had fallen by the time Paris returned to the camp, he didn't wish to leave Oenone, but knew Hector would worry if he didn't return – he had already spent many more hours than expected away from the camp.

----

Andromache and Hector stood in the stream by their tents. Both of their robes were thoroughly soaked, revealing their tanned skin underneath, but night had fell and thus showed little of their naked bodies beneath. They threw water at each other, both laughing loudly.

Wishing to refresh themselves in the stream, Andromache and Hector soon thought of competing in throwing water at each other, or attempting to. They also tried to push the other in the water, and cheered loudly when they did, although it was only Andromache who had succeeded in this so far.

"Hector!" Andromache laughed loudly as her husband took her into his arms and kissed her passionately. She wrapped her arms around his slippery neck, although she opened her eyes for a second while he kissed her and instantly realised his motive.

Laughing as happily as Andromache, Hector tried to push his wife into the water, he thought to divert her attention while kissing her before pushing her down, like she had done only moments before.

Polyxena sat on the edge of the stream and laughed with her brother and sister-in-law. She didn't wish to join them and intrude upon their time together; she knew how special each moment was when spent with a person you loved. She couldn't have thought of a better woman to be with Hector, she had brought life into him.

Paris stood leaning on a thin tree bare with leaves. He watched as Andromache and Hector tried to push each other into the water, and smiled sadly. He envied them both, he envied the bond they shared, and he envied the love they had.

"Yes!" cheered Hector and threw his arms into the air when he finally succeeded in pushing his wife into the stream. He immediately felt guilty at seeing her sitting on a bed of rocks and lifted her to his feet, even though she had laughed merrily at being defeated.

"I love you," whispered Andromache and kissed her husband. She loved every drop of blood that swam through Hector's veins. She looked to her husband's abdomen and saw his toned muscles wishing to break through from the confinement of the robe; she smirked cheekily and led her husband to their tent.

Paris smiled when he heard muffled giggles coming from Andromache and Hector's tent. They had only greeted him briefly before racing to their tent, something Paris was pleased about. He didn't wish to hear his brother's questions on why he had returned so late to camp and where he had spent the day.

Polyxena stood up from her place by the stream; she brushed away a few pieces of grass from her robe and began to walk to her tent. She smiled when she saw Paris about to enter his own tent and quickly walked up to him.

"Where have you been?" she asked. "Hector was worried; he nearly went to look for you."

"I lost track of time," said Paris, and lowered his head slightly as he felt his cheeks begin to burn.

Polyxena stared at her brother and laughed quietly when she released what he was hiding. "You've been with a woman!"

"I've not!" cried Paris, and led Polyxena away from the tents and over to the stream.

"Don't lie to me Paris," warned Polyxena, "I'm your sister; I know when you're lying."

Paris didn't reply for a few minutes, he thought over the best way to reply to his dear sister. He didn't wish to anger her with his lies and trusted her to reveal the truth. "I have been with a woman."

"I knew it!" said Polyxena, smiling.

"I have feelings for this woman," said Paris, speaking very quietly, "and I know no one would believe that I … _Paris the charmer of women_, could have feel for a woman as I do now. If Hector, or anyone else for that matter, knew of this matter now then they would disbelieve me, think I was driven by lust for a beautiful maiden."

"_Do_ you feel more than lust?" whispered Polyxena, her tone as quiet and precise as her brothers had been.

"I've been under the power of lust before," answered Paris, "but I've never been under the power of love."

-----

A/N: This chapter is longer than usual but I need to get a lot of things into the Hunting Trip chapters. Sorry that this chapter focused a lot on Paris, it won't usually. I've brought Oenone into this, she was a nymph Paris met and fell in love with while on Mount Ida, but I've changed it to him meeting her while on this hunting trip. He will still meet Helen etc, but he meets Oenone first.

**Aviella-Avuka-A-Fallen-Angel – **Thank you for the very nice compliment, and thank you for reviewing!

**Queen Arwen –** Thank you for the review and I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! I'd love to have Hector imprisoned, but he's yours so I'll let you do that!!

**Donna Lynn – **I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter, thank you and thank you for the review!

**Eleninya – **Hector is one of my favourite Greek heroes too! You are right that they both fell in love etc. too quickly. Hector will need Andromache, he needs her now but doesn't realise it yet, but I'm thinking of ways to make him know it! :) Thank you for the review!

**Lee – **Thank you for the lovely compliment, I'm really glad you like the story. And thank you for reviewing!

**Kitera-n-Lil – **Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the idea of a hunting trip and liked the chapter. Thank you for the review!


	30. Chapter 30

Another day had passed. The sun rose up into the sky steadily, pouring its light over the forest where the Princes and Princess' of Troy rested. Birds awoke from their peaceful sleep, rising as soon as dawn approached and the flowers slowly opened their petals, revealing a beauty they locked away at night.

Paris had risen early once again. Whenever he had closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep he was faced with the magnificent image of Oenone in his dreams. The image of her twirled happily behind his eyes, never did it disappear.

He had wished to see Oenone again today, but Hector and he were to go hunting. Then tomorrow they were to return to Troy.

Troy, the place he was once saddened to leave, but now angered to return to. He didn't wish to leave the beautiful forest he had become so accustomed to. Life here was incredibly pleasant for him, it was simple. The sounds of birds singing roused him from slumber instead of the murmured voices of those in the palace. He loved rising and feeling the cold, refreshing wind catch in the back of his throat. But more than anything … he loved Oenone.

Oenone was unlike any maiden or woman he had met before. He loved every word that dripped from her perfect mouth, and loved the sweet smell of flowers that surrounded her. He loved her. Paris could tell Oenone anything and everything and knew she would never judge him. And soon he would need to leave the love of his life, the true woman he would ever love.

Not wishing to return to Troy without her, Paris had thought of marrying Oenone. He decided to ask for Oenone's hand in marriage later that day. If she accepted him then he would take her to Troy with him and marry her, but if she refused then he would leave and never return to her again.

It already tore at Paris's heart to be parted from Oenone for long hours during which he had to spend with Hector and the others, he didn't dare imagine years without her if she refused him. He knew that if Oenone did refuse him, then it would only rip away at his insides to see her and not be able to be with her, knowing she had refused him.

"Paris, are you ready?" asked a voice Paris knew as well as his own. He turned to see his brother, the owner of the voice, standing behind him. Paris stood up from in front of his tent where he had waited for Hector.

Both Hector and Paris were prepared and walked over to their horses and mounted them. Their swords hung down by their sides as they rode through the forest, bows rested in front of them, resting on the saddle with them, and arrows rested in a shoulder bag.

Polyxena and Andromache waved to Hector and Paris as they rode away; they had decided to spend the day picking flowers that grew around the camp. The flowers they chose to pick were ones that rarely grew in Troy, therefore would be valuable to them in perfumes they could make.

"Are you alright?" asked Hector, as he and Paris rode through the forest, their movements slow and their voices whispers. Hector had been worried about his brother since they had arrived at the camp, something had changed within his brother and he had no way of knowing how or why.

"Yes," Paris lied, his voice more muffled that usual. He didn't look at his brother who watched him; instead he continued to stare ahead, pretending to be looking for deer.

"I know that since Andromache and I have been married that we've barely spent time together," said Hector, "but that can change now. We can spend more time together if you wish, Andromache will not mind."

Paris smiled. "I am not sad that I am spending less time with you dear brother, and I do not wish for you to change your ways now."

Hector nodded sadly, he knew there was something bothering Paris but didn't know what. "If something's bothering you Paris, then you can …," He quickly ended his words as he caught sight of a handsome, large deer grazing on the luscious grass ahead of them, it had still not heard the Princes approach.

The brothers quietly dismounted their horses and crept nearer to the deer. They stopped behind a group of trees close together, and reached for the bows and arrows they had brought with them. Hector's bow was prepared first; his arrow rested in the bow and was waiting for him to release it upon the deer. But Paris looked at Hector, silently expressing a wish for him to shoot the deer.

Nodding slightly, Hector relaxed his bow and watched as Paris carefully aimed his at the deer. With one movement Paris had shot his bow … and missed the deer. The arrow had hit the floor and startled the deer that looked up at Hector and Paris before racing away.

Paris immediately hurried after the deer, he was determined to have the deer after he had specifically requested to shoot it and then miss.

"PARIS!" yelled Hector, and ran after his brother. He couldn't believe how foolishly Paris was acting. _Do you really think you can catch that deer now?_ thought Hector.

With severe determination flowing through his veins, Paris ran after the deer. He jumped over logs and bushes to keep up with it. He assumed that the deer would soon tire, like he would, if forced to continue to run at the speed it now did.

Hector soon lost sight of his brother and slowed to a walk, as he wanted to be able to hear Paris. The forest was large and he didn't relish the idea of searching for Paris for long hours, so thought to slowly walk through the area he had last seen his brother and keep his ears alert for movements.

Paris suddenly lost track of the deer, it had squirmed its way through various hedges and he had been too slow in following it. Now Paris soundlessly walked through the forest, his sensitive ears were listening for even the faintest of sounds around him. He soon heard movement around him, and raised his bow. Then a slither of brown fur was seen by Paris, it was a small glimpse through a mass of leaves, but he had seen it. He immediately released his arrow from the bow, aiming it directly at the owner of the brown fur.

An enormous loud yell erupted through the forest, followed by various foul words. Paris immediately removed the gleeful expression from his face that had spread while thinking he had shot the deer, but instead he had shot someone else. He knew the yell, he had heard it only once during his life but would never forget it. Paris ran through the bushes and leaves, he fell down to his knees when he saw Hector on the ground, an arrow hanging from his left arm.

-

"Did you hear something?" asked Polyxena, and raised her back from leaning over and picking flowers.

Andromache, who was only a few feet away from her friend, shook her head. "No, what did it sound like?"

Polyxena shrugged her shoulders. "Never mind, I must have imagined it."

-

Hector looked at his brother, his eyes fierce and wide. If he had strength to strike Paris then he would, the fool deserved it, but his eyes softened slightly at the look of panic widening across Paris's face.

"You fool Paris!" exclaimed Hector. He looked to the arrow and tried to pull the arrow from his arm, himself. After trying to release the arrow from his arm and being unsuccessful, he turned to Paris. "Pull the arrow out!"

Paris's eyes widened, he was already feeling nauseous at the sight of blood that leaked from Hector's arm. "P … _pull_ it … out?"

"Yes!" cried Hector.

For a split second Paris closed his eyes, mustering the courage to pull the arrow from his brother's arm. Paris slowly leaned over and placed both of his hands around the middle of the arrow. A few moments passed before he pulled at it, and it took a few more pulls before the arrow quickly released from Hector's arms.

Hector winced with pain as the arrow slipped away from his arm. He gritted his teeth to lock away a low cry of pain. He then looked down to his arm and saw that it was still bleeding a little; he immediately clapped his right hand to the wound, hoping to stifle the small flow of blood.

"I'm sorry Hector," said Paris, his voice low and full of remorse, "I thought you were the deer, I didn't mean to."

"A deer?" growled Hector. "You thought I was a deer?"

"I saw fur through the bushes," Paris quickly replied.

"Fur?" whispered Hector, his voice low and firm. A puzzled expression then spread across his face and he looked down to his waist, where a small bag hung from his skirt. The bag was usually full of coins … and was made of rabbit _fur_. His eyes widened and he shook his head. "You saw this?" He gestured to the bag.

Paris looked strangely at the bag, opened his mouth slightly and quickly closed it. He only nodded his head, too ashamed to speak.

Hector sat up and then tried to stand, he had suffered from injuries before and lived another day, he would simply return to the camp and have Andromache tend to his wound that had now stopped bleeding. But as he stood, he suddenly swayed a little and had to clasp onto a nearby tree to steady him self.

"You put something on the arrow?" whispered Hector. He had been struck by arrows before, yet none had had this effect on him. He knew that some hunters put droplets of potions on the end of their arrows because it proved more successful for them while hunting.

A shocked expression spread across Paris's face, he opened his mouth, unable to speak. He nodded his head and lowered his head before raising it again. "I'm sorry Hector! I heard that potions helped while hunting, they said it would be easier to then fully kill the animal once you had shot it."

"What potion?" murmured Hector, and sunk down to the floor.

"I don't know, I can't remember," sobbed Paris, with tears strolling down his face. He crawled over to Hector and clasped onto his hands. "I'm sorry Hector."

A thought suddenly burst into Paris's mind. He remembered Oenone talk of being experienced with healing even the deadliest of wounds with herbs from the forest. Paris knew that Hector was too heavy for him to lean on his shoulder until they reached the horses, and that Hector could be in serious danger. He thought to run to Oenone and to the place she always spent in the forest during the daylight hours.

"Hector," Paris quickly said, "I'm going to find someone who can help you. I'm going to leave you here, but I'll be back."

"Where … are you … going?" whispered Hector, his eyelids beginning to droop.

"I'll not be long," said Paris, "I'll get help. Just stay here Hector, yes?"

Hector nodded slowly then allowed his eyes to fully close.

Paris stood to his feet and ran through the forest, he didn't know which way would lead him to Oenone, he felt completely lost but still continued to run. He suddenly tripped over the branch of a tree that had burst up from the confines of the ground beneath. Paris fell to his knees and allowed tears to gush down his red face.

"OENONE!" screamed Paris and hoped she wore hear his call, even though he knew it unlikely. He continued to call Oenone's name, thinking it to be useless, when she could in fact hear his call.

Not too far away from Paris, Oenone sat by a stream and washed some herbs she had picked earlier that morning. She rose to her feet as soon as she heard her name called by the one she loved. Her face grew pale, her eyes widened with anxiety, and she suddenly darted through the forest which she knew better than anyone. Following the calls of her name, Oenone soon saw the man she loved on his knees, sobbing hysterically. She had not foreseen this event to happen, and she titled her head in confusion.

"OENONE!" Paris roared once more.

Oenone ran to Paris' side, knelt down in front of him and took his face in her hands. She wiped away the tears that trickled from Paris's eyes, and delved into his eyes.

"You heard me?" mumbled Paris, and clung onto Oenone, burying his head into her robe.

"Yes," whispered Oenone. "What has happened Paris?"

"It's Hector," sobbed Paris, "_I_ … _I_ … I shot him with an arrow … but it wasn't … it wasn't an ordinary one … it had droplets on the tip of it … I don't know … I don't remember what the droplets are." He then allowed a muffled wail to escape his mouth.

"Take me to him," said Oenone, and helped Paris rise to his feet with her.

Paris tried to describe the area in which he had left Hector, and Oenone knew exactly where he meant and quickly led him there. It did not take long for Oenone and Paris to reach Hector, who lay sleeping against the trunk of an old tree.

Oenone ran to Hector's side and immediately spotted the deep wound on his left arm. She gently picked up the arm and held it to her nose, sniffing the wound and hoping to detect the potion that had been placed on the tip of Paris's arrow.

A moment or two passed and she continued to smell the wound, wishing to be correct in her assumptions before telling Paris what potion had caused Hector to react like he did. Oenone carefully rested Hector's arm by his side once more, stood up and walked to Paris.

"It was sleeping potion Paris," said Oenone. "Hector will be fine, although he'll most likely need to sleep the potion off before returning to normal."

A cry of relief escaped from Paris's mouth. He clasped onto Oenone and kissed her lips firmly; he had not kissed her before and felt his body tingle at the touch of her soft lips against his own.

Oenone closed her eyes in pain, feeling the pain that would soon erupt within her when Paris _would_ leave her. She loved him so dearly, so powerfully and yet she had barely spent time with him. Oenone felt connected to Paris, she felt linked to him. She wrapped her arms around Paris's neck and held onto him tightly, never wishing to forget this moment when he was _hers_, when it was only them.

Oenone soon went to search for the horses, leaving Paris and Hector together. She returned and helped Paris lift Hector onto his horse. Paris them mounted Hector's horse and shared it with his brother, he held onto Hector carefully who still continued to sleep. Oenone mounted Paris's horse and they rode away to the camp.

-

A/N: Another long chapter, I hope you enjoy :)

**Queen Arwen –** I found it really hard to think of ways to bring Oenone into it but I'm glad you liked it, thank you. And thank you for the review!

**Donna Lynn – **I agree with you, I love long chapters. I'm really glad that you enjoyed the last chapter. Thank you for the review!

**Calliope – **Thank you for the lovely complement in the review. I'm really sorry that you weren't successful with writing H/A. Thank you for the review!

**Pisces Chick – **You should definitely see the movie Troy, it's good. Thank you for the review, it was lovely!

**Kitera-n-Lil**** – **I'm sorry for taking longer than usual for updating, but I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you for the review!

**Beling – **I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and thank you for the review! Hector is one of my favourite characters so I'm not looking forward to writing his death.

**Lily – **I agree, I think Eric Bana and Saffron Burrows did a good job at portraying Hector and Andromache. I hadn't realised Saffron's eyes weren't blue, but thank for bringing it to my attention. Thank you for the review, and I'm really glad you're enjoying the story!


	31. Chapter 31

Polyxena and Andromache soon returned to camp after picking various kinds of beautiful and exotic flowers. Upon returning, Polyxena retired to her own tent where she dressed into a clean robe after her previous one gathered dirt from kneeling down on the forest floor.

Deciding her robe was equally as stained as Polyxena's, if not more; Andromache also entered her tent and changed into a clean peplos. She then wrapped a light blue shawl around her, unclasped her hair from the intricate design Polyxena had insisted on doing, and sighed happily. Andromache turned to leave the tent and sit by the lake until Hector and Paris returned, but she halted in her steps suddenly.

Paris entered the tent, supporting Hector in his arms with the help of Polyxena and Oenone. They rested Hector, who still remained unconscious, on his bed carefully. Oenone quickly departed from the tent, but Paris and Polyxena remained by Andromache's side.

"_What happened_?" whispered Andromache, she hurried to Hector's side and knelt beside the bed in which he lay, then clasped onto his right hand. She felt the beating of her heart rapidly decrease while she waited for an explanation from Paris. She tried to open her mouth to speak, to hurry Paris's words, but could not form words with her desperately dry mouth.

"I shot Hector with an arrow," answered Paris, after a moment of stilled silence, he spoke quietly and bowed his head in shame, "it was an accident … I thought he was … it was an accident, _an accident_." He swallowed deeply, feeling guilt spread through him.

"It was _an accident_?" asked Andromache, speaking quietly and with a fierce edge in her tone. She rose to her feet and walked to where Paris stood, stopping when she was directly in front of him. "_You _call my husband unconscious and wounded _an accident_?"

"There was potion on the arrow," stuttered Paris, he didn't dare to look at Andromache and instead glared down to the floor, "it was a sleeping potion. I'm sorry … I _truly_ am, but he'll be fine!"

Andromache suddenly slapped Paris, her smooth hand glided across his face. Paris gritted his teeth, feeling a sharp stinging sensation rise in his reddened cheeks.

"You're a fool Paris, a _pathetic_ fool!" snarled Andromache. "You're a _pitiful excuse_ for a Prince of Troy!" She then turned her eyes away from Paris and returned to her husband's side, shocked at what she had done and said. She hadn't believed such cruel words could escape her mouth and such words to be directed to a friend, she turned to apologise to Paris but he had quickly departed from the tent.

Polyxena slowly walked to Andromache's side, she was shocked by Andromache's harsh words, but understood and knew she had not meant them. She embraced Andromache, who clung onto her tightly.

"I didn't mean what I said," confessed Andromache, who began to sob on Polyxena's shoulder, "I adore Paris, he's like a brother to me. But I can't lose him Polyxena … I _can't lose_ Hector, I _need_ him!"

The death of Hector had never _really_ passed through Andromache's mind, but now she realised, more now than ever, that she could lose Hector at anytime. He was a famous warrior of Troy, he had been sent away to fight and would continue to fight for years to come … she _could_ lose the one she loved, and she _would_.

-

Oenone stood by the stream, she heard Andromache's words towards Paris and she understood them. She understood that Andromache had not meant the words she had spoken to Paris; she knew that the pain and shock of seeing her husband wounded had caused them. Being blessed with the gift of foresight, Oenone knew the futures of those around her. She knew what was to become of Paris, Hector, Andromache and even Polyxena, but seeing them all had made the realization of the future become so clearer to her. A part of her wished to tell Paris and his family to run away from Troy, to save them from the fate that had been forced upon them, but she would not dishonor the path the Gods had chosen for her.

Paris walked over to where Oenone stood, ignoring the wild glares of Polyxena that were directed towards him. Polyxena watched Paris as he approached the woman, unknown to her, and slowly entered her tent.

Oenone turned as she heard the footsteps of Paris come towards her, she smiled sadly and took his hands within her own. "Princess Andromache did not mean what she said."

Paris slowly nodded; he knew Oenone spoke words full of truth, but still felt sickened at what he had done. He didn't blame Andromache for the way she had reacted, he was shocked by her anger, but he understood.

"Come," said Oenone, and began to lead Paris away from the camp, "let us talk where we first met."

Paris followed Oenone without question, following her deep into the forest. They only stopped once they had reached the small area where they had first laid eyes upon one another. Oenone sat down on the floor and motioned for Paris to sit beside her. She looked up to the sky and smiled, the stars were shinning extremely brighter than usual tonight.

"Oenone … there's something I want to ," began Paris, but was interrupted by Oenone.

"Not now," she whispered and gently kissed Paris. She pushed him down onto his back and kissed him more fervently.

With the full moon hanging above them, Paris and Oenone made love. He took Oenone's virginity and led her to the path of women, a path she was happy to take. She had never felt happier than she did now, and would never feel this warm, loving feeling again.

Oenone now lay beside Paris; she stood up and quickly dressed with the moon as her light. She smiled when she saw Paris's sleeping form beside her and lay down beside him. Oenone wished to lock this memory away in her heart forever, lock it away in a place she could look back upon without bitterness from all that was to pass. She kissed Paris softly, wanting to remember the feel of his lips against her own.

Paris's eyes slowly opened. He smiled when he saw Oenone. He sat up and gazed into the kind eyes of Oenone, he felt that she would never refuse his offer of marriage if he were to ask now.

"Oenone," he said, "Oenone I love you. I've never loved a soul like you, not like I love you now. I _need_ you Oenone, I don't know how I've survived without you, and I don't think I can live without you now. What I want to say is … Oenone … _will_ you be my wife?"

A rush of feelings erupted within Oenone. Her heart screamed _yes_, while her head screamed _no_. Paris was her equal and she loved him _so_ deeply. Oenone felt as if the love she felt for Paris was rooted within her heart, it would never cease and never leave her. She knew that Paris could not stay with her; it was against the will of the Gods who had dealt them futures long ago.

"I … I can't Paris," stuttered Oenone, barely able to speak as tears flowed down her sickly pale face. She lowered her head and tried to wipe away her tears.

Paris held onto Oenone's wrists and gazed within her eyes after she had lifted her head. "Why?" He did not try to disguise the pain within his voice; he was not ashamed to express his emotions, not now.

Oenone pushed herself away from Paris, she felt sickened by his touch but only because she knew how much she was hurting him. But she also felt pain; she would never experience pain like she did now. A moment or two passed and Oenone looked deeply into Paris's eyes, she pressed her hands against his cheeks and released more tears. She was breaking his heart, breaking it so another woman could come and mend it.

"I can't Paris, I cannot marry you," whispered Oenone, speaking firmly so she wouldn't have to repeat words that tore at her insides.

"You can!" cried Paris, and released tears of his own. He raised his hands up to his face, and placed them over Oenone's that still lay on his cheeks. "Be with me Oenone, you love me so _be with me_!"

Oenone shook her head slowly. "I _do_ love you Paris, _I do_, but I can't be with you. Not now, _not ever_." She then rose to her feet and tried to wipe away her tears.

"You_ cannot_ be with me or don't _wish_ to?" asked Paris, who also stood up.

"Paris if I _could_ be with you then I would!" sobbed Oenone.

"_Do not lie to me_!" growled Paris. "If you loved me then you'd be with me."

"It's not as simple as that Paris," said Oenone, and threw her arms around Paris, but he pushed her away.

Paris shook his head. "_I love you_ Oenone. I would have given _anything_ for you to be happy with me." He turned to walk away but Oenone grabbed onto him.

"_Paris_," she cried, "Paris _I love you_."

"You don't," replied Paris, speaking quietly. He turned to look at Oenone and held her face in his hands. He gently kissed her lips, closing his eyes in pain as he felt her lips for the last time. Then he walked away, leaving Oenone crying hysterically, and returned to the camp.

-

The next day the Princes and Princesses returned to Troy. Andromache and Paris left the campsite as friends, both had apologised to one another on the morning of their departure to Troy. Although Andromache had noticed a change in Paris, a severe cold change within him. He was no longer the wild, young boy; he was a man with pain and suffering bubbling within his heart.

All but Hector had seen Oenone, although the two Princesses decided between themselves to not question Paris on the matter now. They could see how low his spirits were and allowed their imaginations to assume different tales of who the woman was.

Hector felt somewhat honoured that his wife had struck Paris for injuring him, although he didn't reveal his thoughts to her. He thanked the Gods for blessing him with an amazing wife, a better woman than he could have ever have dreamed of. She had stitched his wound and tended to him while he overcame the sleeping potion. He saw as she tended to his injury that she had been crying, but did not speak of it because he knew she wouldn't wish to.

They soon returned to the palace, greeting their family briefly before each returning to their own chambers. Out of the corner of her eye, as Andromache walked through the halls to her chamber with Hector, she saw a pyre burning in the town. She lowered her head in respect, respect for the person, unknown to her, that had died and now burned on the pyre of wood.

Hector immediately walked over to their bed once they had entered their chamber and collapsed upon it. He was severely tired after the ride and desired to sleep for hours without disturbance. He closed his eyes and was about to drift off to sleep when he saw a saddened look cross Andromache's face as she closed the chamber door.

"What is it?" asked Hector, and sat up.

Andromache smiled sadly at the look of concern on her husbands face. She walked over to their bed and sat down beside him. "I saw a pyre burning in the town; it reminded me of my family."

Hector nodded, he understood. He tenderly held onto Andromache's hand, sending vibes of comfort through her body. She kissed Hector's hand and then rose up from the bed. She then walked over to the balcony and looked out over Troy, the beautiful city she loved so dearly. After a few moments of thought she turned away from the balcony and instructed Hector to sleep, he did as ordered.

Deciding to sleep also, Andromache slowly dressed into a cool robe and joined Hector on their bed. She was about to close her tired eyes when she heard a faint knock on the chamber door. She immediately sat up, wrapped a thick shawl around her bare arms and quietly opened the door, as she didn't wish to wake Hector who continued to sleep.

Polyxena stood outside the door, looking as pale and white as snow. Her eyes were heavily blood shot and thick tears raced down her cold face. She embraced Andromache as soon as the door opened and she saw it was her friend.

Andromache quickly looked from Polyxena and then to Hector. She took Polyxena's hand and stepped out of the chamber, closing the door behind her. Polyxena looked up and down the hall and saw no one walking down it. She looked to Andromache once more and tried to speak, but her mouth was so dry that she took a moment before successfully trying again:

"_He's dead_ Andromache," cried Polyxena, not attempting to lower her high and wailing voice, "_he's dead_!"

"Who is?" Andromache whispered.

"_Nickolas_," sobbed Polyxena, and sunk down to the floor, "Nickolas … Nickolas … he's dead, _Nickolas is dead_." She knelt down to her knees, feeling a sense of dizziness and nausea wash over her. She shook her head slowly, not wishing to believe that the one she loved was dead.

Andromache gasped aloud, and raised a hand to her mouth. She crouched down to Polyxena's height and held onto her hands. "_How_ … how do you know, are you sure?"

"I saw him," Polyxena answered, quietly speaking, "I saw him burning on the pyre … his mother and father were crying loudly … I _saw him_."

Andromache bowed her head. It was Nickolas she had seen burning on the pyre. She felt the trembling hands of Polyxena within her own and spoke: "How did he die?"

More tears leaked from Polyxena's eyes. Her eyes widened and her face grew even paler. "He … _he_ … kill- … killed himself." She closed her eyes tightly, wishing to forget the image of Nickolas's body burning, hoping that this was all a dream.

Andromache suddenly heard Hector call to her from inside their chamber; he had obviously woken up and found her to be gone. She quickly rose to her feet and then helped Polyxena stand.

"Return to you chamber," said Andromache, quickly, "I will come to you soon."

Polyxena slowly nodded, she had heard Hector also, and hurried to her room in the women's quarters.

Andromache stepped into her chamber and was faced by her husband who was about to leave it to find her. She knew that Hector would soon hear of Nickolas's death, he was a stable hand in the palace after all. And so she decided to tell him now, without mentioning that Polyxena had told her.

"Nickolas, the stable hand here in the palace, is dead," said Andromache, and sat down at the table in their chamber. "His pyre is the one I saw."

Hector sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "How did he die?"

"He killed himself," answered Andromache.

Hector said nothing and sat beside Andromache. He looked at her now and saw how Nickolas' death affected her; he knew that she was once again reminded of her family's death.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he said after a few moments, speaking seriously. "You're more perfect … _so_ much more perfect than I could ever have imagined."

Andromache turned to look at Hector; she delved into his eyes and saw it. She saw the love he had for her, but it burned more brightly within his eyes now than it ever had. A few tears dropped from her eyes, and she embraced Hector tightly, not wishing to let him go.

"What is it?" asked Hector, startled by Andromache's tears.

"What if I lose you Hector?" asked Andromache. "What if you lose me? What will become of us?"

"We won't lose one another Andromache," reassured Hector, and brushed a hand through Andromache's thick hair, "we'll always be together."

-

**A/N:** Another long chapter, I hope you enjoy :) A note on Oenone, she will appear in the story towards the end, but this is it for her at the moment.

**Donna Lynn – **Thank you for the review and compliment! I have to say that you're very insightful into what will happen in the story, which is good. And I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter!

**Queen Arwen**** – **I'm afraid Paris did shot Hector; sorry that I had to do it but I felt it had to be done ;) You may tend to Hector; he probably needs a bit of extra care anyway ;) Thank you for the review, and I'm really glad you liked the last chapter and thank you for the compliment!

**aLL aMeRIcAn gIRl 50 – **I've always preferred Paris with Oenone too; I think she was better for him. And yes, Helen is quite the rotten spoiler:) Thank you for the review and I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

**Kitera-n-lil – **Thank you for the compliment and review! It's great that you like all the chapters, thanks:)

**Beling**** – **Paris was definitely stupid to shoot Hector, but Hector's better now so all's good:) Thank you for the review and it's great that you're enjoying this so far, thanks!


	32. Chapter 32

Months had passed since Nickolas's body had burned brightly on the pyre. On that day Andromache had walked into the town with Hector and they paid their respect to him. Polyxena could not bear to see the pyre again, and so remained in her chamber for that day and many days afterwards.

Polyxena blamed herself for Nickolas's death, even though Andromache had persisted in telling her otherwise. She had heard from servants that Nickolas had stabbed himself after not being able to survive without a woman he loved, no one knew other than herself and Andromache that _she_ was the woman Nickolas had loved.

Now a meeting was being held between King Priam and the Elders, including his two sons Prince Hector and Paris. The reason for this sudden and unexpected meeting was to discuss a call for peace from King Menelaus of Sparta.

Long had Troy and Sparta been war enemies, but King Menelaus of Sparta now wished for peace. King Priam, of course, also desired peace and thus called an assembly to discuss the matter.

"You should go to Sparta," said Priam, and turned to his son Hector, "and take tokens of peace from Troy."

Hector nodded, thinking it to be the right course of action. However, he didn't enjoy the idea of sailing to Sparta, a journey that would take weeks to arrive there and then to depart for Troy once more. "Yes father."

Priam then turned his attention to Paris. He had noticed the distant look that had grown within Paris's eyes; he had especially noticed how reserved he had become. Paris no longer chased after pretty maidens; he seemed almost lifeless since he had returned to Troy from the hunting trip months ago.

"Paris, you shall go to Sparta with Hector," said Priam. He thought Paris would take pleasure from seeing the remarkable Sparta, and perhaps it would raise his low spirits. "You'll sail to Sparta together in a few days time. I do not wish to give King Menelaus time to think differently on the idea of peace."

"I _do not_ wish to go," Paris suddenly said. He hadn't spoken a word during the course of the meeting, and startled a few men who sat near him.

"You _will_ go Paris," replied Priam, speaking sternly and using a tone that implied he would not think differently on his plan.

Paris stood up from his chair and marched out of the room, Hector soon followed him.

"How _dare_ you disrespect our father's decision!" cried Hector, once he had caught up with Paris who hurried through halls of the palace.

Paris chose not to reply to Hector's words, and continued to stride ahead of him.

Hector grabbed onto Paris's shoulder, causing him to stop and turn to face him. "What is it Paris … what is happening to you?"

For a moment it looked like Paris would release his grief onto Hector, his mouth opened and he tried to form words but he couldn't do it. He wouldn't reveal how he was still pained after leaving Oenone. Night after night he had tossed and turned during sleep because his dreams were always haunted by her, and how she had refused him.

"It's nothing," said Paris. He tore away from Hector's grip and walked away.

Hector made no attempt to follow Paris and instead turned to walk to his own chamber.

-

Andromache walked through the halls of the palace; she had planned to see Hecuba who had suddenly taken ill. A physician had been sent to see Queen Hecuba, but had found no true signs of illness and presumed her to be overtired and suggested rest for the Queen.

As Andromache turned a corner she suddenly walked into Paris, who like her, seemed to be lost within his own thoughts.

"Oh!" exclaimed Andromache and laughed lightly. "I'm sorry Paris, I didn't see you."

Paris shook his head. "No, it's my fault."

"Are you alright Paris?" asked Andromache, noticing that his eyes were filled with tears. She stepped closer, her eyes widening with worry.

Paris shook his head and bit onto his lower lip, to keep himself from crying.

Andromache looked up and down the hall and saw no one walking through it, she took Paris's hand and spoke: "Paris, would you like to talk about it … in private?"

Paris only nodded and allowed Andromache to lead him to his chamber. She sat him down on his bed and continued to hold his shivering hand.

"Tell me Paris, perhaps I can help," she said, speaking softly.

Paris laughed weakly, and removed Andromache's hand from his own. He then walked over to his own balcony and looked out from it. He was silent for a few moments, but then he turned his head to Andromache who still sat on his bed. "Do you remember the woman, on the hunting trip, who was with me when I brought Hector to your tent?"

"Yes," said Andromache, she could clearly picture the woman in her mind and gazed at Paris, waiting for him to speak again.

"Her name is _Oenone_," said Paris, pronouncing Oenone's name softly and smiling slightly. "I met her in the forest on the day of our arrival there and I … I loved her." He laughed at himself then, but it was a forced laugh full of sadness. "I _still_ love her."

Andromache stood up from the bed and walked over to Paris, she embraced him tightly and he grabbed onto her. He sobbed onto her shoulder, releasing the pain he had locked away for months.

"I even asked her to be my wife," sobbed Paris. "I've not bedded another woman since her because I know I'll only be reminded of her."

"I'm sorry Paris," whispered Andromache, she did not need to be told that the woman Oenone had refused him. "There will be other women Paris, better than her."

Paris pulled away from Andromache and shook his head slowly. "There will never be another woman like Oenone, and I'll never love another woman like I love her."

Andromache stayed with Paris until the sun had set over the sea of Troy. She had listened while he poured his heart out to her, and only her. Andromache tried to comfort Paris, but she didn't realise how helpful she was in just listening to him. His spirits seemed to have risen a little when Andromache left, he smiled and hugged her tightly before opening his chamber door for her, and then she walked to her own chamber.

It did not take long for Andromache to return to her own chamber, and she felt guilty for not seeing Hecuba but decided to see her the next day. She was fairly surprised to see her husband sitting at the table in their room, pouring over various kinds of maps. He looked up at her as she entered, and smiled sadly.

She knew that look; she knew it so well now then she didn't even have to ask Hector for an explanation for his rare expression. "When will you be leaving?"

"In a few days," said Hector, and stood up. He walked over to his wife and removed her shawl for her. "King Menelaus of Sparta has sent word of peace to Troy. My father wishes to accept this and is sending Paris and me there."

"King Menelaus … is he not the brother of King Agamemnon of Mycenae?" asked Andromache, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Yes, why do you ask?" asked Hector.

"I have heard tales of the Kings, that is all," answered Andromache. She had heard that King Menelaus lived in the shadow of his brother King Agamemnon. And that King Menelaus was thought to be a coward of a man compared to his brother.

"We'll most likely remain in Sparta for seven days," said Hector after a moment, "so I pray the journey will not last long, but you'll hardly notice that I'm gone."

Andromache said nothing, she knew her husband was trying to reassure her mind, but she disliked how he thought she would hardly notice his absence. When Hector left Troy she felt like there was no reason for her to wake each morning and prepare herself beautifully, she felt as if a part of her soul was missing when he left her.

-

Princess Andromache, including members of his family said goodbye to Prince Hector and Paris from the entrance hall of the palace, who were to leave with a small group of men that would accompany them to Sparta. Queen Hecuba did not wave farewell to her sons there, instead she spoke to them separately in her own chamber as she felt too tired to leave it.

No one knew … no one other than those blessed with knowledge knew that this would be one of the last times when Troy was in peace. Soon blood would run across the now clear sands, soon cries of men dying would be heard by all, and even sooner enemies would land on the shores of Troy.

If Andromache had known what was to pass then she would have begged Hector and Paris to stay, begged Priam to reconsider his plan, and then so many lives wouldn't be lost and torn apart. Perhaps so many wailing widows wouldn't crowd the gates of Troy each day after hearing of their loved ones death. Perhaps the walls of Troy would still stand proudly … perhaps Hector would still have lived…

-

**A/N:** Just to let you know, I'll not be following the movie "Troy" too much towards the fall of Troy, I'm going to try and stick with the Iliad and other things. Also, the war will last ten years, the amount it actually lasted.

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you for the review and I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, thanks:)

**Donna Lynn**** – **Thank you, it's really nice that you continue to enjoy the story and enjoyed the content in the last chapter, thanks :) Thank you for the review, and I'm glad you enjoyed the length!

**Lady Hades – **Thank you for continuing to read the story, and thank you for the review:) I'm really glad you're enjoying the story, that's great, thanks!

**Beling**** – **I wish Andromache and Hector had lived happily ever after too :( Thank you for the review:)

**MRS.Nathan Scott**** – **Did you mean for me to update soon, rather than review? If so then I've updated, so I hope you enjoy :) And thank you for the review!

**Kitera-n-lil – **Thank you, I'm really glad you're enjoying the story and liked the last chapter, thanks :) And thank you for the review!

**Sara – **Wow, you're a fast reader to read this in an hour :) Thank you for the review! Astyanax was born during the war, he was a baby (or small child) when Troy fell and he was killed. But you're right, he does die after Hector. Although in the movie "Troy" Astyanax is already born before the war, but I'm not going to be following that too much.


	33. Chapter 33

A loud wail coming from the royal gardens below Andromache's chamber roused her from her light sleep. She had barely slept a full night since Hector had sailed away to Sparta over two weeks ago. She quickly hurried from her bed and wrapped a plain white shawl around her bare arms before rushing out of the chamber.

It was early morning and only a few servants walked through the halls, Andromache was amazed that none of them went to where the cry had come, but she assumed they hadn't heard it. She was even beginning to wonder if she had imagined it.

In the garden, beside a gold footpath, a woman knelt down before Hecuba and her daughter, Polyxena. Hecuba was leaning over to reassure the woman, while Polyxena watched. As Andromache focused her eyes on the woman, she soon realised that it was _Oenone_.

Andromache slowly walked to where her mother and sister-in-law stood, although she was somewhat unsure of whether or not to stay or return to her chamber.

Upon hearing footsteps, Hecuba suddenly straightened up and smiled when she noticed Andromache. She spoke quickly to Oenone, her lips barely moving and her voice a dead whisper. Neither Polyxena nor Andromache could hear what had escaped Hecuba's soft lips.

"Polyxena," said Hecuba, although she looked at Andromache as she spoke, "please take Oenone to the women's quarters and wait for me there."

Polyxena nodded and helped Oenone to her feet; they walked away from the garden and into the palace. Oenone clung to Polyxena's hand, obviously feeling faint and still tears streamed from her deadly pale face. As they walked away Andromache noticed Oenone's stomach, and saw that it swelled more so than when she had first seen her. At the time Andromache shrugged the thought away, but she and others around her would soon live to regret this.

As Andromache watched them walk away, she saw Cassandra watching her. Cassandra watched her from an entrance into the palace from the garden. A single tear leaked from her left eye as she continued to watch Andromache. Cassandra stepped forward, almost about to walk to where her sister-in-law stood, but then stepped back again. A moment or two passed while Cassandra just stood there and watched Andromache, she then slowly walked away.

Andromache was unnerved by the sight of Cassandra watching her so intently. She barely saw Cassandra now, very few members of the royal family went to see her. Cassandra would remain in her chambers and it was rare for her to leave them, especially when it was still day.

"You've met Oenone before, haven't you?" said Hecuba.

Andromache nodded and turned to look at Hecuba. "Yes, I saw her in the forest when we went camping … although I didn't speak a word to her. I didn't … I_ don't_ even know who she is."

Hecuba smiled. "It's alright; I know that there was an attachment between my son, Paris, and Oenone."

"Why did she come here?" asked Andromache.

"She came to see if Paris had left for Sparta yet," answered Hecuba.

"Why would that matter concern her?" asked Andromache, she assumed Oenone had heard word of Paris and Hector sailing to Sparta.

Hecuba fell silent, she pondered over her next words for a few moments before finally speaking. "She … Oenone wished to see him that is all. It's no matter now, Oenone will see Paris when he returns if she wishes."

"Of course she can," said Andromache, speaking quietly. Although she was still slightly confused, she knew there must have been more to the situation but chose to not ask her mother-in-law.

* * *

The voyage to Sparta was shorter than Hector had anticipated, and this he was glad of because he was anxious to return to Troy, something he always felt after having left it for more than a week. 

The grand ship bearing the Princes of Troy soon docked into the harbor of Sparta. Once arriving there, the Princes were taken on chariot to the palace where King Menelaus lived.

"Welcome to Sparta Prince Hector and Paris," greeted Menelaus, who stood a few feet in front of the doors to his mighty palace, and he raised his hands in welcome. The palace and Kingdom of Sparta, however, was not his by birth right, instead he gained them by marriage.

At the tender of twelve Helen, now the beautiful wife of Menelaus, was abducted by Theseus who was the King of Athens. Theseus planned to marry Helen, as he wished to marry a daughter of _Zeus_, but as she was still a child when he took her he decided against it. Helen lived comfortably with Theseus, but with him she lost her childlike innocence and soon realised that she was desired by men because of her astounding beauty.

Helen's eldest brother Pollux rescued her from Theseus. However, during the rescue of his dear sister, Pollux was killed after stabbing Theseus, who also died.

King Tyndareus, Helen's non-biological father, was then left with no male heir. Tyndareus also had another child called Clytemnestra, who was now married to King Agamemnon of Mycenae. When Helen married Menelaus, who was the son of the deceased Atreus and brother of Agamemnon, he received the Kingdom of Sparta from Tyndareus who died shortly afterwards.

As Menelaus was the younger brother of Agamemnon by two years, he would not have ruled a Kingdom at all, unless his brother died, because his brother was the eldest and therefore took the throne from their father once he had died. It was indeed fortunate for Menelaus to be blessed with a great Kingdom and a beautiful woman in marriage.

The tale of Helen's incomparable beauty was known throughout countless lands. It was said she was the daughter of Zeus, although she was raised by her mother and Tyndareus, who had raised her as one of his own children. Zeus was said to have taken the form of a swan and seduced Leda, Helen's mother. As a result of this Leda became pregnant with her youngest child, Helen. Some said Leda was raped by Zeus, which is why she killed herself shortly after giving birth to Helen.

"Come Princes of Troy and greet my wife Queen Helen," said Menelaus. He was a thin man with only a few bold muscles shown on his tanned arms, not like a typical warrior. No beard covered his face; instead he was clean shaven, much like Paris. Menelaus gestured for the Princes to follow him into the entrance hall of the palace.

Paris gasped aloud, but quickly composed himself and was thankful to the Gods that no one had heard him.

The Queen of Sparta was the embodiment of perfection with shimmering gold hair, falling past her slender shoulders that twisted into smooth curls at the ends. Her hair moved ever so slightly with the soft wind that blew through the doors of the palace. Helen's striking curves were only made more appealing by a dark orange gown she wore. Her glowing cheeks reddened when she caught sight of the younger Prince of Troy watching her intently, she hadn't blushed for many a year.

A small child, looking no older than five years old, stood by Helen and tugged on her robes when she saw Princes she had never seen before. She was Hermione, the daughter and only of Helen and Menelaus.

"This is my wife Queen Helen," said Menelaus. He then introduced the Princes Hector and Paris to his wife, who greeted them politely. Then Menelaus, catching sight of his only child by her mother, scooped her up into his arms and chuckled when she hugged him tightly.

"And this is my daughter Hermione," he added. He kissed her forehead and placed her on the ground once more and she hurried behind her mother when she saw the Princes smiling kindly to her.

Hector had felt a pang of jealously when he saw Menelaus with his daughter, but he quickly forced the feeling away after reassuring himself that one day the Gods would bless him and Andromache with children.

"She is nervous around strangers," said Helen, her voice low. She held onto Hermione's hand and bowed her head before the Princes, then her husband. "I shall take her to the nurse."

Menelaus watched as Helen left, still he loved her like he did when he first saw her beautiful and perfect face. His love never faded for her, not even when she was cold towards him and did not return the obvious affection he held for her. Helen treated Menelaus like a mere acquaintance and not the husband he was to her; she couldn't relax when she was in his presence or in the presence of many a man because she saw the look of desire they had for her in their desperate eyes and hated it.

The face of Helen, that would soon cause thousands of men to fight in war, turned to look at Paris. She blushed furiously once more and sharply looked away when she caught the eyes of the Prince on her.

Helen's sheer beauty would _always_ amaze those around her, even Paris. He watched as the Queen continued to walk away, but had sense enough to not attract the attention of her husband by doing so. The image of Helen lingered in his mind, even after she had walked out of sight with her daughter. Her face seeped into every corner of his heart…

* * *

**A/N:** I realise that Menelaus isn't portrayed like he was in the movie "Troy", but I'm going to write him as I felt he was. If you've seen "Helen of Troy" then the Menelaus in that is how I imagine him to have acted etc. Also, Helen did have two brothers (Pollux and Castor), and Pollux (also called Polydeuces sometimes) wasn't actually killed by King Theseus. I followed the version in "Helen of Troy" of how Pollux died, because it works better for me and I prefer it. 

There are some reports that Leda, Helen's mother, actually died of shame from Helen's actions of going to Troy etc. But I again prefer how Leda was said to have died in "Helen of Troy."

I know I said Oenone wasn't going to be in it again until the end, but I needed her in this chapter. I _think_ she won't be in it again till towards the end of the story. :)

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you so much, you left me a lovely review, thank you! I couldn't help but follow the Iliad, especially when Hector gets to live longer in it :)

**Jen – **Thank you for the review, I'm really glad that you're happy I decided to follow the Iliad and that you're enjoying the story, thanks :) Cassandra is still in the story; she'll definitely be more in it in the coming chapters. I introduced Alexander because I wanted Andromache to know how it felt to be wanted, or needed by a man - so she could detect when Hector showed that he needed her also. I'm sorry but I don't know how to pronounce Oenone, I tried to find it out but I couldn't so I'm sorry.

**iamJulianne – **Hector won't die for quite a few more chapters yet so I hope you continue to read until then, but I do understand if you still don't want to because Hector's death is horrible. I could warn you when Hector is going to be killed so you don't have to read it if you like. Thank you for the review :)

**YoursAlwayS – **I'm really glad you enjoy the story, thank you and thanks for the review! I was also sucked into Troy fanfic after seeing "Troy"! Thank you once again, especially for reading the fic in two days – that was fast :)

**Luke Skywalker – **Thank you for the review and I'll definitely keep writing :) And thank you for liking that I'll be having the war last ten years!

**aLL aMeRIcAn gIRl 50 – **Yep, here comes Helen! Thank you for the review and I'll try to continue updating regularly :)

**Donna Lynn**** – **You're not the only interested in where this is going at the moment, I don't even have completed ideas for the next chapter yet, lol :) Thank you for the review!

**Kitera-n-lil – **I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter, thank you! And thank you for the review :)


	34. Chapter 34

The day was blistering hot and as the day drew on, it grew even hotter. Enjoying the rise in temperature, Hector and Menelaus decided to sit outside in the palace gardens and discuss the issue of peace between Troy and Sparta there.

Paris was left to entertain himself after showing a strong wish to not join his brother and King Menelaus in what he thought was tedious talk. He was slightly tired after the voyage to Sparta, but he knew he could not rest while Helen was in the same palace. Paris did not love Helen, at least not in the beginning. Aphrodite soon worked her magic over Paris and he came to love Helen, but never in the same great way he loved Oenone.

At first Paris was merely driven by lust, he had seen Helen and desired her. The fact that she was married to King Menelaus and that he was in Sparta concerning peace only added to the thrill of a chase. He had been correct in assuming there was no love for Menelaus by Helen, which would only make the task of wooing her even easier for him.

Bitterness had sunk into Paris's heart. He thought he hated Oenone; he wanted her to suffer like he had … like he was. Paris no longer wished to feel the sharp sting of losing the woman he loved or the stab of vicious grief that overcame him when he remembered his time with Oenone.

Paris thought that by wooing Helen into his bed, a woman who was so perfect and radiant in appearance, he would realise that Oenone was not the greatest woman in the world, like he thought. If the tales about Helen were true, then she was certainly the most beautiful woman in the entire world. Paris held no true emotion for Helen at this time, only lust and passion concerning her.

After a few moments of thought, Paris decided to take a stroll through the palace. The idea was innocent enough, but he wished to see Helen again and hoped to find her somewhere in the giant palace.

Helen looked out of her balcony and saw her husband and Prince Hector in deep conversation. She continued to survey both men for a few moments, comparing and contrasting them. Then, as if feeling her eyes on him, Menelaus looked up to where Helen stood on her balcony overlooking the garden he and Hector sat in. He smiled at her. Helen stared at him for a fleet of seconds and then walked back into her room.

She went to sit on her bed but then grew restless and left the room. Helen did not share a chamber with her husband. The only time she stepped into Menelaus's chamber is when he wished to spend the night with her, and when he did she would completely detach herself from every feeling within her heart. She felt nothing when she was with Menelaus, no feeling flashed through her slender body when she saw him - she felt _nothing_.

Helen walked to her daughter's room, presuming her to be there with her nurse, but was surprised to be wrong. As the day was hot Helen thought that Hermione's nurse would keep her in shade of her room, but she was wrong. Helen began to walk through the halls of the palace, growing impatient, and was about to call for a servant when she saw Hermione and the nurse by a pond in a garden of the palace. But Hermione was with Paris also.

For a moment Helen stopped and watched her daughter laugh as Paris playfully tickled her. Helen smiled broadly and was content to watch them from afar when Paris suddenly turned and saw her.

Paris saw the Queen of Sparta and felt a gasp escape his mouth; Aphrodite's power had begun to take effect over him. The wind seemed to have been forced out of him because he found it grueling to even breathe. He stood up and slowly walked to where Helen stood, she was clearly nervous by his sudden movement towards her.

"Your daughter is an amazing child Queen Helen," said Paris, his voice low and soft.

"Thank you Prince Paris," whispered Helen, too nervous to speak any higher. She felt like a young girl again, embarrassed by a man as he looked at her. She turned to look at Paris and into his eyes; she smiled faintly when she didn't see the desperation and desire in his eyes.

"Is the Spartan weather usually this _pleasurable_?" Paris asked, and smiled kindly when he saw the look on Helen's face when he emphasized the world 'pleasurable'.

Helen could only nod and felt her cheeks begin to burn.

"Queen Helen, would you think me rude in asking for a tour of the palace?" asked Paris. "Of course you do not have to be my guide, but the palace here is _magnificent_ and I would love to _explore_ it."

"I would be more than happy to show you the palace Prince Paris," stuttered Helen, but quickly gained confidence and spoke again. "Shall we start now?" She looked up to Paris once more and couldn't help but smile again.

Paris nodded. "Thank you Queen Helen."

Helen began to show Paris the palace in which she had been born and raised. She passed the afternoon away happily by showing Paris every hall and pointing out various rooms to him from time to time. On more than one occasion Helen's body brushed past Paris's and both felt an electrical wave of attraction shoot through their bodies. Almost unwillingly, Helen began to feel herself relax around Paris. Her whole manner was at peace, she felt free to say anything to Paris even though she barely knew him.

After the long and thorough tour, Helen suggested they sit together in a room that only she sat in. Even Menelaus did not sit in this room with her on the evenings. Menelaus had tried to sit in the room once but she had been not spoken a word to him and he felt the coldness towards him ooze from her and decided to leave. Helen knew Hector and Menelaus still spoke with one another in the garden, and thought they would remain out there for more than an hour at least.

"A lovely room," said Paris as he examined the room, though his eyes stumbled on Helen on more than one occasion.

"My mother often sat in here," said Helen, and her expression grew sad, "or so my sister Clytemnestra tells me." She saw the look of confusion on Paris's face and added: "My mother died shortly after giving birth to me."

Paris nodded in understanding. "I am sorry."

Helen shook her head. "It is not your fault." After a few moments she spoke again, wishing to draw the conversation away from her mother. "The palace of Sparta must be extremely small compared to Troy's; I hope the tour did not bore you."

"The tour was excellent," whispered Paris and walked closer to Helen. "I'm beginning to think Troy cannot compare to Sparta."

For a brief second Helen closed her eyes, lost within Paris's words. She opened them and was surprised to see how close the Prince was to her now. Helen raised her head and looked into Paris's eyes confidently.

Paris stepped even closer to Helen and leaned in to kiss her, but she suddenly pushed him away.

"I'm … _I'm_ married," Helen whispered. Even though she had pushed Paris away, she hadn't wished to. She wanted to feel his lips against her own more than anything, but was too scared to allow herself to have feelings for a man that would soon leave her. But as she looked up at Paris once more she felt her heart begin to race and a wave of emotions shot through her veins.

Helen leaned up to kiss Paris. She pressed her body against his and closed her eyes in ecstasy as she felt the gentle lips of Paris against her own. She had never been kissed in such a way, it was magical to her. Menelaus had always kissed her urgently, never slowly and delicately like Paris did now.

Paris slowly brushed his hands down Helen's back and then brought them back up to run them through her silk-like hair.

A noise in the hall outside the room caused both Paris and Helen to spring apart. They quickly smoothed down their robes and Helen tidied her hair. She looked at Paris and couldn't help but smirk, she had never felt so exhilarated.

The door to the room opened and Helen's eyes widened for a split second, but she quickly gathered her wits and sat down on a chair by the table while Paris walked over to the window and looked out of it.

Menelaus and Hector stepped into the room, both laughing over a story Menelaus had just told. Hector slowly looked to Paris whose face was red, then to Helen, but said nothing. Menelaus walked over to his wife and kissed her hand and she smiled weakly.

"I've ordered for us to have the evening meal in one of the gardens tonight," said Menelaus and slowly dropped Helen's hand from his own.

Helen nodded, though said nothing. Once Menelaus had taken his eyes off his wife, she gazed over to Paris for a brief moment but then quickly looked away.

"Did you enjoy the tour of the palace Prince Paris?" asked Menelaus, having heard of the tour by his daughters nurse.

Paris turned to look at Menelaus and smiled. "Yes, I enjoyed it immensely, thank you King Menelaus." He then looked over to Helen. "Queen Helen was an excellent guide."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Menelaus, and looked over to his wife fondly. "She was raised in this palace and so knows it better than most, even me!" He then laughed.

Helen rose to her feet. "Excuse me my lords but I must tend to my daughter." She bowed her head before her husband and then Hector, and finally Paris. Her gaze lingered over Paris for a second and then she left the room.

Paris soon excused himself from the room and he gained a warning look from Hector as he left. He brushed a hand through his hair as he walked down the hall leading to his chamber. He actually felt guilty for kissing Helen, not because she was married, but because he was merely using her to overcome a grief that had been caused by another woman.

He felt intoxicated by Helen, and felt happier around her than he had for months. But then, like now, he would always feel drawn back to Oenone. He shook his head angrily and marched through the palace and into his chamber, where he slammed the door shut.

Paris sat down on the bed and held his hand within his hands. He inhaled deeply and then raised his head. _I will forget you Oenone, _thought ParisButOenone would never truly be forgotten by Paris. She would always be there, at the back of everything.

Soon his heart would be filled with the love of another a woman, a woman who would cure his pain with her spirit and beauty. But their love would be cursed. As a result of their love for one another they would give Kings an opportunity to unite against Troy and attack it. The love of Paris and Helen would only cause ruin and destruction for _all_…

* * *

**MRS.Nathan Scott**** – **I've updated, I hope you enjoy the chapter! I'll try to keep updating at least once a week, and thank you for the review :)

**Queen Arwen – **Long live the Iliad indeed! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter; I also wish Helen could have been outrageously ugly, lol! Thank you for the review :)

**Donna Lynn**** – **I hope Paris's two love interests will get interesting, I think it will get more interesting towards the end of the story though :) Thank you for the review!

**idun03 – **Thank you for the review! I'm really glad you're enjoying the story, thank you! The war should start soon, although I'm not really sure in what chapter. I hope you take care too :)

**Jessie – **I'm really glad you're enjoying the story and I'll definitely not stop it now, I'm going all the way till the end with this :) Thank you for the review and for letting me know you enjoy this! You take care too!


	35. Chapter 35

A few days after the arrival of Prince Hector and Paris, Phoebus Apollo raced his chariot across the skies and carried darkness behind him. Helen lay in her bed and waited for sleep to consume her.

Menelaus had asked for her that night, wishing to spend the night with her, and Helen had refused to go by complaining of a severe headache. Helen had never refused Menelaus before, not because she feared him, but because she had no reason to – it was her duty as his wife, or so she was told. But now a feeling had erupted within Helen that pained her terribly.

The pain was all of the emotions that had come surging from within her heart once she had first laid her perfect eyes upon Paris. Her heart and mind were in conflict with one another, her mind being sensible by not wishing to see Paris again, while her heart desired the lips of him to caress her own. Helen knew that her feelings for Paris were not childish, they were _real_.

Many years ago, when Agamemnon came to marry her sister Clytemnestra, Helen had dreamt of falling in love with a man she would love more than anything or anyone else in the world, and that he would love her in return. Still being a child at the time, Helen was adamant to marry this man even though she had never seen his face in her dream. Helen soon forgot that dream, and only remembered it now. She knew Paris _was_ that man, the Gods had sent him to her.

* * *

Hector rose early the next morning, he wished to speak with Paris before the morning meal and wished to do so privately. As he stepped into Paris's chamber, expecting to wake Paris up from his slumber, Hector was surprised to see his brother awake and sitting at the end of his bed. 

Paris looked deathly pale and his hands shook slightly. He slowly turned his head to look at Hector and stood to his feet. "I was going to come and tell you Hector -,"

"I need to talk to you," interrupted Hector, needing to speak first while the words of what he had planned to say still remained fresh within his mind.

Paris raised his eyes to stare at Hector, wondering whether Hector already knew what he had heard. "Very well."

"_Is_ there something between you and Queen Helen?"

Paris's eyes narrowed in confusion for a second before he nodded slowly, unaware that he had allowed himself to nod until he saw Hector's face.

"_Paris_!" snarled Hector, rage spreading across his eyes. "Paris you have _no_ idea what Menelaus will do if he finds out! He will _kill_ _you_, you stupid _fool_!" Hector marched over to Paris and grasped his arms tightly. "He will kill you, perhaps even me too, and then there will be no peace treaty and our mother and father will be without sons … _Andromache _… Andromache, she'll be without me! _How could you_ Paris, this could destroy everything!" Hector released his hands from Paris and stepped away from him. He held a hand to his head, desperately thinking of what to do.

"The only _fool_ here is _you_!" Paris spat. "Do you _honestly_ believe Menelaus wished to unite with Troy? Menelaus asked us here so he could get information about Troy. Menelaus and Agamemnon want Troy!"

"_What?_" Hector gasped.

"There is no peace treaty!" cried Paris. "I was going to tell you, I was coming to tell you that I heard Menelaus speaking with his council this morning." He stepped nearer to Hector and looked into his eyes desperately. "I swear Hector; I swear on my life that I speak the truth." He added after a brief pause.

"No," whispered Hector, "no, this can't be." He sat down on Paris's bed and was silent for a few moments, before standing up once again. "We need to leave at once."

"What about Menelaus?" Paris asked. He looked to his brother for instruction, the brother that had always guided him out of trouble and protected him.

"We can't allow Menelaus to know that we are aware of his plan," Hector answered, suddenly adopting the calm voice he used in battle. "I will tell him an envoy has come to us from our father for our swift return home. We can leave as soon as possible without rousing the suspicion of Menelaus."

"What if Menelaus does not allow us to leave, what if he -," Paris said, his voice almost inaudible.

"Menelaus will not kill us unless he learns that we know of his plan," interjected Hector, "he has no reason to think we know, and that is how it must stay. If Menelaus did attack us … then he knows father will send the army, which is not what he wants at this time. We are safe … for now at least."

Both were silent while Hector thought furiously on a plan to leave Sparta and return to Troy as soon as possible.

"Perhaps I should stay as planned," said Hector, speaking slowly as his mind worked, "it would attract less attention, and therefore you could sail to Troy today. I could follow shortly."

"I can't leave without you!" cried Paris. "What is Menelaus what if he ki … _hurts_ you?" He had not wished to '_what if he kills you?_'

Hector smiled weakly, trying to reassure Paris. "Menelaus has no reason to. It would be wiser for you to return home today, you're not important to Menelaus – as long as he remains ignorant of you and …,"

"Helen," breathed Paris. The thought of leaving her now sunk into his heart, he had not thought of it since they had arrived. "You should leave Hector," he added after a short pause, "leave today."

"No Paris!" Hector said sternly.

"Hector, if Menelaus learns of Helen and me when I'm gone," said Paris, "he'll kill you out of rage. Leave for Troy today, tell Menelaus that …," he thought for a moment and then added, "tell Menelaus that your wife has given birth to your son and you must return to Troy immediately."

Hector sighed, knowing men did not leave treaties of peace to tend to their new born children. "Paris you're still … you're still a _boy_, I can't leave you here."

Paris stepped closer to Hector, and spoke quietly. "If you love me brother, you will allow me to stay. Please Hector."

Hector's eyes widened, he slowly thought that Paris must wish to prove himself as a Prince of Troy by showing bravery. He looked to his brother sadly, thinking that this was perhaps the test of whether or not Paris would finally become a _man_.

"Are you sure?" Hector asked, his voice quivering.

Paris nodded.

"Fff … fine," stuttered Hector, unable to believe what he was doing. He felt like he was condemning his brother to death, but he felt as if he had no control over the decision he had made, as if the Gods had intervened.

* * *

During the morning meal, while King Menelaus and his wife sat on one side of the table, and Prince Hector and his brother on the other, Hector chose to tell the King of his departure. 

"King Menelaus," Hector began, choosing his words wisely, "I have received word from my father that my wife has given birth to our son. I must return to Troy immediately to bless the child."

Paris looked at Hector, a look of confusion flashing across his face which caught the attention of Helen. Children did not need to be blessed in Troy.

Menelaus slowly nodded.

"My brother will remain in my place," continued Hector, "until peace between our great nations has been settled, if your kindness permits that, King Menelaus." He felt sickness rise in his throat as he charmed King Menelaus and said Paris would remain in Sparta.

Menelaus looked to Paris and smiled faintly. He thought Paris was a pathetic Prince, having surveyed him with his own eyes, and having heard various rumors of Paris' lack of talent in battle. But he thought Paris may prove to be useful. Menelaus thought that if Hector left for Troy, then he could have Paris to himself and ask him about Troy.

"Of course Prince Hector," said Menelaus, and smiled, "your brother, Prince Paris, is more than welcome to remain here in your place." He turned to look at Paris for a short moment and then to Hector again. "I hope your child is well." He added.

"Thank you King Menelaus," said Hector, inwardly grieved because he had no children, yet wanted them.

Hector left for Troy that morning, taking a few of the men that had accompanied him and his brother to Sparta. He tried, once more, to persuade Paris to leave instead of him, but Paris would not hear of it.

Paris watched as his brother sailed away and it felt as if a weight had been dropped into his stomach and sunk to the pit of it. _He_ knew why he remained in Sparta, but feared it would cost him his life.

* * *

Helen sat alone in her chamber, sitting at her table and brushing her golden hair before she prepared for bed. Once she was content, she placed the brush onto the table and sighed heavily. 

She had watched Hector leave and knew Paris would soon also, which caused a small, sparkling tear to trickle down her face. Helen jumped in shock as she felt its coldness against her warm cheeks.

Helen stood up from her chair and glided over to her bed once she had changed into her night robe. A trail of the finest material flowed from the ends of her nightgown. She lay down in her bed, only now feeling how lonely she was in the huge bed, even though she had slept in it alone, except for one night with Paris on the night of his arrival in Sparta, for over five years. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Paris crept through the halls of the palace, heading towards Helen's room. He entered her chamber and silently closed the door behind him. 

There she was, the daughter of the mighty God Zeus, the woman he had fallen in love with. He had spent a few days with Helen, captivated by her beauty and spirit. He had made love with Helen on the night of his arrival; both had been unable to contain their desire they had for one another.

Paris had not thought of Oenone since the first day of his arrival to Sparta, instead his mind focused on Helen and how he could be with her.

He walked over to Helen's bed and sat on it beside her. For a few moments he just watched Helen as she breathed softly, and reflected over the decisions he had made. She was like a drug to him, a quick reliever to the pain he felt. The pain caused by Oenone was quickly healing because of Helen. Paris had fallen in love with Helen, and he couldn't bear to leave another woman he loved.

Paris gently caressed Helen's hands and her eyes slowly opened. She gasped loudly and sat up in the bed.

"What are you doing here?" She panted.

"I'm leaving for Troy tonight," Paris whispered. He held Helen's hands within his own and lowered his head. "I want you to come with me Helen."

Helen's mouth opened with shock. "Oh Paris…,"

"Helen, I want you to come to Troy with me," Paris said, more urgently now.

"What about Menelaus and my daughter?" cried Helen. "I can't leave them Paris. Menelaus would hunt me down like a _dog _and Hermione, _my_ sweet child, I can't leave her!"

Paris's head shot up to look at Helen. He saw her eyes fill with tears. He hadn't even thought of Hermione. "I …,"

"I can't leave Paris," sobbed Helen, using every ounce of energy within her body to speak. She wanted to leave Menelaus and Sparta more than anything in the world, but she couldn't bear to leave her child also.

"We could take her with us," Paris quickly suggested.

Helen shook her head. "If I leave Menelaus then I will be disgraced and dishonoured, I do not want Hermione to live with _my_ shame."

"_Our_ shame," corrected Paris, and smiled sadly.

Both sat in silence for what seemed like hours, until Paris stood up from the bed which disrupted it.

"Where are you going?" asked Helen, a note of panic rising in her voice.

"I'll not ask you to choose between your daughter and me," said Paris. He kissed Helen softly and then tore his lips away from hers. "I love you Helen." And then he quickly left the room, leaving Helen alone and grief stricken.

* * *

Paris stood at the Spartan docks, waiting for the men to finish loading the ship before he boarded it. He had left word with a servant that he was returning to Troy and to tell King Menelaus the next morning, but that was all. 

Once again he had been refused by a woman, and he sneered at himself. He didn't blame Helen, he understood that she could not leave her daughter, but still he wished she would – even though he would never have admitted it to her.

Finally, the men called to Paris to tell him that the ship was ready. Paris nodded and walked closer to the ship, ready to board it when he heard a loud cry from behind him. He suddenly turned and saw Helen running towards him.

Absolute shock covered Paris's face and he ran to Helen. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, never wishing to let her go. He saw Helen crying, which caused him to cling onto her even more tightly.

"I couldn't leave you Paris," sobbed Helen, and clutched onto Paris. They quickly boarded the ship, attracting confused looks from the men on the ship but Paris silenced their murmuring by ordering them to sail away from the docks and to Troy.

Helen had gone to Hermione's chamber before leaving for the docks. She had taken a necklace her own mother, Leda, had left for her. Helen knew Hermione would know what the necklace was and left it by her pillow for Hermione to have, so she could remember her.

It tore Helen's heart to kiss her daughter goodbye as she slept. She wanted to wake Hermione up, but knew it would only cause her more pain. Despite the love Helen had for her daughter, she chose to leave her – something that would haunt her for years in Troy, even more so when she saw Troy burn before her eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** I've done this somewhat different from how it was in "Troy", I didn't want Hector to actually choose if he wanted to send Helen back to Sparta while on the boat returning to Troy, which is a main reason for why I changed it. I hope you enjoy it :) 

**Donna Lynn – **I hope this chapter in particular was different enough, I really appreciate your reviews and for you telling me what you want etc :) I'm really going to try and make it different from "Troy" because I want this to follow the Iliad and Homer more. Thank you for the review!

**Ithil-valon –** I understand if you don't want to read about the death of Hector, at the moment I have it planned to happen in about eleven chapters, but I've not wrote any chapter past this yet so that will probably change. Thank you for reviewing and I'm really glad you like this story :)

**Queen Arwen – **I'm really happy that you still like this, I can understand if you begin to hate it because of Helen and Paris, or my writing etc, lol! Thank you for the review :)

**Kitera – **I'm really glad you enjoyed the chapters, and thank you for the reviews! I'm glad you thought Paris was sneaky; I was trying to make him appear like that :)

**Queen Karyl – **I began this on the 3rd of December last year, and I updated every day for a while and now I'm updating this about once a week. I'm really glad that you like the end of the chapters and that they help in getting you into the story! Thank you for the review :)


	36. Chapter 36

A bitterly cold wind blew through Menelaus's balcony as he slept on the morning after Helen and Paris had left Sparta for Troy. He was still unaware that his exquisitely beautiful wife had left him for another man, a man she actually loved.

Menelaus's dreams that morning were filled with sweet memories, the memory of his daughter Hermione being born, of marrying the most beautiful woman in the world, and becoming the King of Sparta. He inhaled and exhaled peacefully, savoring each drop of sweetness that came from these memories, until he was forced awake by his daughter.

Hermione ran to her father's bed, tears streaming down her eyes. She carried the delicate necklace her mother had left for her, in her small hands. Hermione knew the necklace had once belonged to her grandmother and was confused to wake and find it on her pillow that morning – only after she had grown in age would she truly understand.

"What is it?" Menelaus asked, as his eyes slowly adjusted to the blazing sunlight coming through from the balcony. He rarely allowed Hermione to enter his room, only with his permission, and was annoyed with her until he saw that she was crying.

"I can't find mother," mumbled Hermione, as tears slid over her lips. "Where's mother?"

Menelaus narrowed his eyes in confusion. He looked down to Hermione's right hand and saw that she held a necklace in it – a necklace he immediately recognised. Menelaus knew that it was Helen's necklace, Helen's favourite necklace. He quickly stood up from the bed and hurried out of his chamber.

"GUARDS!" shouted Menelaus as he stepped out of the chamber. He immediately saw guards running towards him, and also his friend and councilor.

"King Menelaus," panted Solon, Menelaus's friend and councilor, "your wife, Queen Helen, is gone – she has left with Prince Paris!"

"_What?_" Menelaus said incredulously. "A _Trojan_ has left with_ my_ wife!"

Solon ordered the guards to research the palace; even though he knew the Queen would not be found as she had been seen boarding the Trojan ship with Prince Paris by men who worked at the docks.

Menelaus didn't reproach Solon for ordering _his_ guards away; he was too shocked to even speak. He had never thought Helen would have been taken away from him, even though the possibility was proved even more likely when thousands of men swore their lives to defend Menelaus's right to have Helen.

"You are sure?" asked Menelaus, even though he already knew the answer.

"Yes my lord," answered Solon.

* * *

On the afternoon Menelaus discovered his wife had left for Troy with Prince Paris, he rode to Mycenae which was to the North-East of Sparta. It took him three days and nights of almost constant riding before he reached the city of Mycenae, which was his past home before marrying Helen. 

Shortly before Menelaus married Helen years ago, the Kings of the Aegean swore an oath to defend Menelaus's right to have Helen. This oath would come into effect if Helen was taken away from her husband. The Kings of the Aegean had to unite their swords and armies against anyone who challenged Menelaus's right to Helen.

Menelaus went to Mycenae to seek guidance from his brother. He wished to burn Troy to the ground and to take back his wife after killing Paris, but knew he would need his brother's help if he were to achieve this.

Even though Helen had never shown any love to Menelaus, and barely any kindness, Menelaus still loved her. He was infatuated with her, with her beauty. Helen was his prize, and something that his brother Agamemnon didn't have.

Agamemnon had always reaped the glory by being the eldest son, but he didn't have the daughter of a God for his wife – something Agamemnon was well aware of. Menelaus had always felt bitter-sweet content because he had something his brother didn't, for once.

Night had already fallen when Menelaus arrived at the palace of Mycenae. His brother greeted him at the entrance hall of the palace. Agamemnon had already heard that his brother's wife had left him; news had reached him earlier that day.

Clytemnestra, Agamemnon's wife and Helen's sister, stood in the shadows of the entrance hall, listening to her husband and brother-in-law's conversation. She had also heard that Helen had left Menelaus for a Trojan Prince, but was still unwilling to believe it.

Agamemnon stood proudly in the plain entrance hall of his palace. As he watched his brother dismount his horse, fury and anger washed across his lightly tanned face.

"Your news precedes you," said Agamemnon as he watched his younger brother walk up the stairs to the entrance hall. "You have brought dishonour on yourself and shame to the house of Atreus!"

"I'll have the Trojans head on a spike," whispered Menelaus, not daring to look into the dark eyes of his brother.

"Not without my help," said Agamemnon, and watched his brother carefully. As he waited for his brother's arrival, Agamemnon had planned how the situation could work to his advantage.

"Ah, yes. Well, as always I must bear the weight of your shadow," said Menelaus bitterly.

Agamemnon grabbed Menelaus's shoulder and clenched onto it tightly. "You're a smudge on history's ledger, Menelaus, but _you are_ my brother. What's more, the Kings of the Aegean have sworn an oath." He then removed his hand from his brother's shoulder.

"To unite, as I recall. The oath did not place you in command of _me_, or _my_ army, or any other," said Menelaus angrily.

"Do not incur my wrath, little brother, _do not_!" growled Agamemnon. He thought for a few moments before speaking again. "These are my terms. You may have the Trojan Prince … and your _whore_. I will take Troy, and you will share no spoils – not even a scrap of broken clay. Agreed?"

Menelaus was silent, looking at his brother with hatred flooding through his eyes.

"DO YOU AGREE?" shouted Agamemnon.

"I am your brother," Menelaus said quietly.

"DO YOU AGREE?" repeated Agamemnon, his anger rising.

A few moments passed before Menelaus obtained courage to speak. "What makes you think the armies will unite behind you?"

"The Gods have written it," Agamemnon said simply.

"And you know for certain that they favour you in this?" Menelaus asked furtively.

"For certain!" Agamemnon answered.

"Then I agree," said Menelaus quietly.

Clytemnestra bowed her head and felt tears slip from her eyes. She prayed to the Gods that her sister would be safe and that no harm would come to her. As she raised her head she saw her husband watching her – hating her. Clytemnestra quickly hurried away from the hall and to Iphigenia's chamber.

Iphigenia, her daughter, was the sole purpose for why Clytemnestra chose to live. She received no love and rarely any kindness from her cruel husband, but she always received plenty of love from her daughter.

Clytemnestra was the obedient wife, always following her husband's orders, and she tried to love Agamemnon – it was her duty, the duty of all women – but she couldn't.

* * *

Cassandra watched the sun rise on the walls of Troy; she had ordered to be taken there by her handmaiden and guard. Her face was pale and her eyes squinted slightly as she adjusted to the light after remaining in her dark chamber for days on end. She placed her frail fingers on the wall in front of her and gasped loudly. 

"Princess Cassandra?" said her handmaiden.

"Leave me," whispered Cassandra, speaking to both her handmaiden and guard. They were hesitant to leave, until Cassandra screamed at them to go.

She fell down to her knees, tears sliding from her eyes. Cassandra knew Hector would be returning to Troy that day, and that he would be returning alone. She had prayed to the Gods to change their minds, change the fate of Troy, but received no answer from within their cold temples.

Cassandra did not know _how_ Troy would fall at this time; she saw flickers of it in her dreams at night but no more yet. Fire would always surround the brief images of death and suffering for the Trojan people.

Slowly, as she felt faint, Cassandra stood up from her knees and quickly wiped away her tears. She inhaled deeply, hoping the chilled wind coming from the sea would ease her mind. Then she returned to the palace, ignoring the stares of those around her.

* * *

In her white night robe, as night flooded through Troy that day, Andromache walked out to her balcony and allowed her long hair to thrash with the wind behind her. She placed her hands on the balcony and wished to the Gods that Hector would soon return to her safely. Hector and Paris were due to return to Troy any day now, and each day they did not return caused another weight to drop into the pit of Andromache's stomach. 

As Andromache's eyes searched the seas, she suddenly caught sight of a Trojan ship – the same ship Hector and Paris had left for Troy on. She cried with happiness and ran from her chamber, not caring that she only wore her night robe.

The halls of the palace were almost bare as Andromache hurried through them. A perfectly gleeful expression spread across her face as she picked up the ends of her robe so she could run faster. It would be one of the last great expressions to cross her face.

King Priam and his wife, Queen Hecuba, already stood in the entrance of the palace. Andromache presumed they had been told of Paris and Hectors arrival.

Hecuba turned to look at Andromache as she stopped running and walked more properly towards her and her husband. There was something in Hecuba's eyes that Andromache could not read; it looked like pity, but more like sadness.

Priam smiled and greeted Andromache by kissing both of her red cheeks. "Hector will be glad to see you, my child."

Andromache nodded, although she wasn't paying much attention. Her attention was instead drawn to the men that rode across the beaches of Troy. When the men entered the walls of Troy on their horses, Andromache could distinctly see her husband leading them and she smiled. She searched for Paris but could not find him, she opened her mouth to say something and turned to Hecuba – who had turned as pale as snow and had clutched onto her husbands arm.

"What is it?" asked Priam, looking to his wife with worry rising in his tone. He turned to hold his wife in his arms as she began to sob hysterically.

Andromache again looked to the men and desperately looked for Paris, but he wasn't there and she wouldn't find him there, no matter how many times she looked. She stepped down the first few steps from the entrance hall, as if hypnotised.

"Paris … he's _not_ with them," croaked Andromache, and sharply twisted her head to look back to Priam and Hecuba.

Priam looked to the men who had now reached the bottom of the stairs to the palace. He looked over the face of every man, including his own son Hector, and gasped when he could not see Paris. He released his arms from Hecuba and walked closer to the steps leading from the entrance hall.

Hector looked up to the entrance hall, remembering a time when he had walked up these steps to tell Andromache that her family were dead. Nausea swam into his stomach and up his throat, but he choked it back. Hector ordered the men to return to their homes and he alone walked up the steps to his family waiting for him.

Hecuba sank down to the floor, knowing what Paris's absence meant. On the day of Hector and Andromache's wedding anniversary, Cassandra had a vision about the fate of Troy. Cassandra had small visions of Troy's fate before that day, but on that day it was clearer than any time before. Hecuba knew what her daughters vision meant after asking her, though didn't bear to believe it. Even now she _couldn't_ believe Cassandra's visions, even though the end of Troy was beginning.

Andromache hurried to her mother-in-law, and helped her to her feet once more.

"Where is Paris?" Priam asked Hector, when Hector stepped onto the floor of the entrance hall. Priam's voice was shivering as he spoke, and Hector noticed that his hands were also.

Hector looked to Andromache, who looked back at him. His tense stomach muscles relaxed when he looked at her, but quickly constricted when he looked over to his sobbing mother. After a few moments had passed, Hector retold everything he had played over in his mind about the trip to Sparta – including Paris's relationship with Queen Helen.

Once Hector had finished he looked to his father who clung onto the wall beside him for support after staggering slightly. Andromache's eyes widened with shock and fear and her face matched the colour of Hecuba's. But it was Hecuba who appeared to be the most affected by Hector's news. Tears still raced down her pale face, her whole body quivered as Andromache held it, and years seemed to be added to her appearance in the short time Hector had spoken.

Cassandra emerged from the shadows of a hall leading away from the entrance hall. She had heard every word spoken from Hector's mouth, even though she already knew what he would say. She stumbled over into the center of the entrance hall and looked to those around her.

"I told you father," she hoarsely whispered, "I told you to kill Paris when he was born! Paris will bring war to Troy, a war we can_ not_ fight!" She walked over to her father and grasped onto his arms, her eyes pleading with him. "Paris must not return to Troy with _her_, it will be the _death of us all_!"

Priam shook his head furiously. He remembered when Paris had been born and Cassandra had run through the halls of the palace screaming '_death to Troy_'. When he had asked his daughter what she meant, as he was aware of her visions from Apollo, she told him if Paris lived then _death would come to Troy_. Neither Hecuba nor Priam had wished to believe it and ignored Cassandra's words, even though it had haunted them every day since Paris's birth.

* * *

**A/N:** Some of the dialogue between Menelaus and Agamemnon is from "Helen of Troy". Also, I'm sorry there hasn't been much H/A at the moment. I really need to get a lot of important things in the next few chapters so it won't focus on them for a little while longer. 

**Queen Arwen – **I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter; I was trying to make it as original as possible, so I'm thrilled you liked it! Thank you for the review :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **Hector does have a son, Astyanax, but he won't be along for a while yet because I'm following the "Iliad" more and not "Troy". I'm really glad you liked the chapter, thanks for thinking it was clever and thank you for the review :)

**Donna Lynn – **Paris is always going to make a fool of himself and of Troy, lol! Thank you for the review and I'm thrilled that you like how I'm writing this, thank you :)

**Ithil-valon – **I completely agree with you, I want to hate Helen but it's proving to be hard at the moment. I'm really glad you liked the change I made, thanks and thank you for the review :)

**Kitera – **I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter and thought it was well written, thanks! Thank you for the review too :)


	37. Chapter 37

Heralds had been sent to those that had sworn the oath of Menelaus's right to Helen; it reminded them that they were bound to defend King Menelaus and to help him avenge the outrage of Helen leaving Sparta with a Trojan.

Almost two months after Menelaus had rode to Mycenae, seeking help from his brother, the great Kings that had sworn to the oath now met by an alter in Aulis, a Boeotian harbour opposite the island of Euboea.

After receiving the heralds reminding them of their oath, the Kings of the Aegean had sailed to Aulis with their armies, and where they had now remained for nearly two months. The Kings had proposed to sail to Troy to retrieve Menelaus's wife and for him to seek revenge on the Trojan Prince that had taken her. But two months had passed and still favorable winds did not come to the impatient armies who wished for war.

The Kings now stood surrounding the alter and watched as King Agamemnon looked out to the sea and to the hundreds of ships that floated on its surface.

"Two months!" snarled Agamemnon. "Two months, and still the wind remains against us!"

The renowned warrior Achilles, son of Peleus and Thetis, and leader of the Myrmidons, stepped forward to speak to Agamemnon. "The men grow impatient!"

"I grow impatient Achilles!" snapped Agamemnon. He turned to face the Kings and his eyes washed over every face, he saw the desire within their eyes to flee back to their Kingdoms and snarled angrily. His eyes then fell on his seer Calchas. "Come here, Calchas!"

Calchas obeyed his master and stepped in front of him. "My lord?"

"When will the winds be with us?" Agamemnon asked his seer. "What do the Gods say?"

Calchas was silent. He had prayed to the Gods that morning for insight as to why the winds did not favour the Kings of the Aegean, and Artemis answered his prayer. "You must do a terrible thing."

"Tell me!" said Agamemnon, growing impatient.

"In trade for fair wind the Goddess Artemis asks for your daughters life … here on this alter," said Calchas, bowing his head slightly.

Agamemnon's eyes widened and he staggered a little with shock. It was true he was a harsh and twisted man, but there was one who held his affection and that was his daughter Iphigenia. She was the jewel in his heart, the only pure innocence in his life that he loved.

"And that will satisfy the Goddess?" Agamemnon stuttered.

Calchas nodded, but raised his head to look into the eyes of his master. "But you must hold the knife, the Gods demand it."

Every drop of life faded from Agamemnon's face that day, and it was never to be replaced. A pale haze hovered over his face permanently and he was forever haunted with the sweet laughter of his daughter Iphigenia. He turned away from his seer and looked out to the sea once more. He looked out across the sea for a few moments before inhaling deeply and saying:

"The winds will soon be with us!"

* * *

On the same day after having been told a way he could have favorable winds to Troy, Agamemnon sent some of his men to collect his daughter from his palace in Mycenae, where she was with her mother. 

The Queen of Mycenae, Clytemnestra, and her nine year old daughter Iphigenia sat in a garden of the palace and twisted flowers into their crowns.

Clytemnestra felt a mixture of peace and anxiety now her husband had left Mycenae, thus leaving her and her daughter at the palace quite happily. She usually felt at peace when her husband left the palace, but now she also felt frightened because she feared the outcome of her sister.

Helen and Clytemnestra had always been close sisters, as close to one another as could be, which caused Clytemnestra, the elder, to feel constant fear because her sister had left Menelaus for another man. It was still hard for Clytemnestra to believe that her sister had left Menelaus, but she would soon realise the seriousness of the situation … the bitter stab of it.

"Look at my crown!" laughed Iphigenia and placed her crown, full of flowers, on her small head. She stood up and twirled around in small circles before collapsing onto the floor once more, causing her mother to laugh.

"You remind me so much of your Aunt Helen!" beamed Clytemnestra and cuddled her daughter.

"Will Hermione live with us now Aunt Helen has left?" asked Iphigenia. She had heard the conversations of the servants in the palace, that her Aunt had run away to Troy, but did not understand much of it.

Clytemnestra looked down to her daughter, somewhat shocked that she had heard Helen had left. She had thought of her niece, Hermione, and what would become of her, but she didn't need to worry as Menelaus would never dare to harm her. Hermione would remain in Sparta in her father's palace and be cared for by her nurse and others.

"No dearest," answered Clytemnestra, "your cousin will remain in Sparta, she is happy there."

"She could be happy with us!" said Iphigenia and she smiled widely.

Clytemnestra smiled but said nothing.

One of Clytemnestra's handmaidens quickly ran to where the Queen sat in the garden. She bowed before the Queen before speaking:

"My Queen, a letter from your husband has arrived," panted the handmaiden. "You must read it at once."

Clytemnestra quickly hurried to her feet and told Iphigenia she would come back. She hastily walked through the halls to the entrance hall where a soldier stood with a roll of parchment in his hand. She took it from him and slowly read it.

A gasp escaped Clytemnestra's mouth as she finished the letter which she dropped to the floor. The letter had said that Iphigenia was to be taken to Aulis to see her father and no more, but Clytemnestra felt suspicious of it. She ran to her daughter but found she wasn't there and when she screamed at her handmaiden and guards to find her, she was told that Iphigenia had been taken to Agamemnon.

* * *

King Agamemnon stood by the alter in Aulis, and was alone there now because the Kings of the Aegean had retired back to their camps – many not wishing to see the death of the child. 

On the ride to Aulis, Iphigenia had been told she was going to see her father. She was not frightened, she had no reason to be because she trusted and loved her father.

Iphigenia was taken to the steps leading up to the alter when she had arrived at her fathers camp, and carefully walked up the steep steps to him. She laughed sweetly and ran to her father when he held his hands out for her.

Agamemnon swung his daughter up into the air, something he had done since the day she was born. He then sat her down on the alter and asked her to lie down and close her eyes because he had something for her.

Obediently, Iphigenia lay down on the alter and closed her eyes tightly, expecting a present from her kind father.

In one swift movement Agamemnon had raised his knife into the air and slit his daughter's throat. Vomit immediately rushed up his throat when he saw the blood rush from his daughter's throat, but he swallowed it back down.

Loud cheers from the camps full of warriors, desperate to fight, suddenly began. Agamemnon dropped the knife to the floor and stepped away from the alter to look at the hundreds of warriors that cheered for him.

* * *

Two weeks after sailing away from the Spartan docks, the ship carrying Prince Paris and Queen Helen of Sparta was attacked by a ferocious storm. The ship suffered from severe damage, but there was an island near the ship during the storm so the men accompanying the Prince and Queen were able to steer the ship to the island. 

For less than two months the men, who had traveled with Paris to Sparta, repaired the ship as best as they could on the island. Now the ship was finally able to carry them all to Troy.

The daughter of Zeus stood looking out to the sea from the beach of the island. She watched as the waves rushed up against the sand and smiled as the sound of the sea calmed her rapid nerves. Ever since she had boarded the ship she had constantly felt on edge, as if someone or something was waiting to attack her.

Helen continued to look out to the sea and thought of her daughter and tears leaked from her eyes immediately. She could not think of Hermione without feeling guilt rush through her. And she could not think of arriving in Troy without feeling more frightened than she had ever felt before. Paris had tried to ease her mind, but Helen could see that he shared her emotions, if not more so.

There was no mistaking that Helen and Paris loved one another, they did and always would, even if their love for one another would lessen over the years, but in years to come they would stop and wonder if their love was worth the lives of thousands.

"I've just spoken with the men," said Paris as he walked up behind Helen and wrapped his arms around her waist, "the ship is repaired and we are able to leave for Troy tomorrow. We could then arrive in Troy in a few days; we are not far from there."

"So soon?" whispered Helen, though it was not a question. She leaned her back against Paris's chest and slowly turned her head to look at Paris, her eyes revealing how scared she was. "What will happen when we arrive in Troy, will I be sent to Sparta?"

"Of course not!" exclaimed Paris. "You'll be safe in Troy, Helen."

Helen placed a hand of Paris's cheek; he was still such a child she thought. He didn't know the likes of Menelaus or Agamemnon, _or _any King that would unite against Troy. She knew the Kings; she knew them all and knew why they would each fight in battle. Some would fight because they had sworn to; while others would fight for glory, for spoils, and _one_ would fight for revenge.

* * *

**A/N:** I've used more dialogue in this from "Helen of Troy", when Agamemnon talked with his seer and Achilles. Iphigenia was really killed by Agamemnon and I've included it because it will be of some importance later on in this story. 

**Ithil-valon – **Thank you for the review and I'm really glad you liked the chapter! I'm not ready to say goodbye to Hector yet either, which is a main reason why I went for the ten year version :)

**MRS.Nathan Scott – **I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, thank you and thank you for the review:)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **Helen really did have a daughter, which makes her leaving Sparta even worse I think. Thank you for the review, I'm really glad you liked the last chapter and enjoy my writing, thanks:)

**Donna Lynn – **Thank you for the advice about making Cassandra less reclusive, I think you're right and I'll definitely try. Thank you for the review:)

**Matrixfan101 – **I'm a Matrix fan too:) Thank you for reviewing and I'm really glad you love the story, thanks!

**Kitera – **I feel sorry for Clytemnestra too, but she'll get her revenge in the end. Thank you for the review and I'm really glad you loved the last chapter too:)


	38. Chapter 38

Word that Prince Hector had returned to Troy, and without his brother, quickly spread through the city like a deathly plaque. Confusion swept through the homes and into the conversations of those unblessed with true knowledge as to why Prince Paris had not returned. Only the Royal family of Troy, Elders of Troy and some servants within the palace knew why Paris had not returned and were forbidden to speak of it outside the palace walls.

News had reached King Priam that his son had left Sparta, but that he wasn't alone. He was told Paris had left with Queen Helen of Sparta, wife of Menelaus. Priam had also heard that the Kings of the Aegean had set sail for Troy with their armies, and that high King Agamemnon had sacrificed his daughter Iphigenia for favourable winds. All of this shocked and astounded Priam and he prayed to the Gods each night for guidance.

Hector had spent every day since his return to Troy in meetings with his father and the Elders of Troy. They discussed the news lately brought to them, and Agamemnon and Menelaus's true desire to have Troy. Hector commanded that the army begin furious training at once, as it was inevitable that the Kings of the Aegean would soon come to Troy.

Andromache watched for hours from her balcony each day while the army trained, even though the warriors were no more than little ants to her eyes from where she sat. She knew her husband would often command them when he was away from meetings, and when he wasn't there to train the army, a general would take command of the warriors.

She feared the arrival of Paris; she would wake each morning sweating profusely from her nightmares of war coming to Troy. Andromache knew that Agamemnon and the other Kings did not only sail to Troy for the Spartan Queen, but for Troy. Even though she never admitted it to anyone but herself, she knew deep down in the pits of her soul that this would be the end of Troy.

On an excruciatingly hot afternoon, Andromache fell asleep on her chair on the balcony. She was not aware for how long she slept; only remembering that her dream was once more filled with the loud wails of women and clashes of swords. But she was soon woken by her handmaiden, and dear friend Xanthe, when the sun began to set over Troy.

Andromache gasped with fright when she felt Xanthe nudge her hand gently in attempts to wake her. She immediately sat up, then seeing Xanthe watching her, she smiled kindly.

"I wasn't even aware I had fallen asleep!" Andromache laughed, but her laugh quickly faded when she saw Xanthe's worried face. "What's wrong?"

"Prince Paris has returned," Xanthe whispered, even though no one other than Andromache would have heard her speak if she had spoken properly. "Prince Hector has ordered me to take you to the entrance hall where you will greet the Queen and take her to the women's quarters."

"_Me_?" asked Andromache. She rose from her chair but swayed a little and held onto Xanthe for support, she had been feeling faint and nauseous for the last few days.

"You and Princess Polyxena, who will be waiting for you in the entrance hall," said Xanthe. "King Priam has refused to greet Prince Paris in the entrance hall, so that is why you must greet him and the Queen."

"Why did Priam refuse?" asked Andromache, and sharply turned her head to look at her handmaiden.

Xanthe took a few moments before speaking. She had heard gossip of the Kings rage at his son Prince Paris, but didn't like to talk of gossip. When she felt Andromache's eyes staring at her, she spoke. "King Priam has asked for Prince Paris to be taken to his hall where he returns. It … it is said that King Priam wishes to speak with his son in front of the Elders of Troy."

Andromache nodded, but said nothing. She had seen Priam's rage with her own eyes when he had been told of what Paris had done, and it had shocked even her. But Priam was no where near as angry as Hector had been, he had shouted and sworn and ordered for the Queen to be returned to Sparta as soon as she arrived. Hector's reaction had frightened Andromache, she had never seen him so angry, but she could also see within his eyes that he was scared.

"Andromache, what will happen to Troy now?" asked Xanthe, drawing Andromache away from her thoughts.

The Princess looked to her friend and her eyes filled with tears but she quickly forced them away. She inhaled deeply and attempted to smile, to reassure Xanthe. "Troy will be safe. The Queen of Sparta will be returned to her husband and all will be well."

Xanthe smiled.

After stepping back into her chamber before walking to the entrance hall, Andromache walked over to her table and placed her golden laurel leafed grown on her head. She straightened her back proudly, smoothed down her robes, and left the chamber with Xanthe walking a few steps behind her.

* * *

The wise and great Elders of Troy had gathered in Priam's meeting hall and talked quietly to one another. Priam silenced them with one simple hand gesture and then the Elders took their usual seats. The King sat in his throne at the far end of the hall and surveyed each Elder while he waited for his guards to bring him his youngest son. Hecuba sat on her husbands left side, while Hector sat on his father's right and looked extremely worried. 

Not wishing to greet his son formally, Priam had asked for Polyxena and Andromache to greet Paris and the Spartan Queen in the entrance hall of the palace. Andromache and Polyxena were then to take the Queen to the women's quarters where she would remain, while Paris would go to his father.

* * *

Polyxena had never dreaded to see her brother more while she waited for Paris in the entrance hall of the palace. She still couldn't quite believe that her brother would ever be so foolish as to steal another man's wife, especially the wife of a King. 

As Polyxena anxiously waited, Andromache joined her; they both appeared to be equally nervous and worried. Both knew the dangerous situation Troy now faced by Paris's foolish act.

Andromache's heart began to beat rapidly and she felt vomit gather in her stomach. She looked to Polyxena who was suddenly transfixed by the sight of Paris stepping off from the chariot he and the Spartan Queen had stepped onto once reaching the walls of Troy.

The two Princesses watched as Paris helped an astoundingly beautiful woman off it after him, the Spartan Queen. They had heard stories of the Queen being a child of Zeus and that her beauty could never be matched, something that shocked and amazed them both.

"The Spartan Queen," whispered Polyxena as she looked at her. She was almost in awe of the Queen's beauty; she had never seen a woman so beautiful in appearance.

The Queen of Sparta thanked Paris when he had helped her off the chariot. She clung onto his hand and felt that he was shaking too, which didn't settle her nerves. Helen picked up the ends of her beautiful robe and began to walk up the palace steps with Paris.

Helen slowly examined Troy as she carefully walked up the stone steps. She had gasped aloud when Paris had shown her the glittering walls of Troy on the ship, and now wished to gasp even louder at everything she could see. There was so much life, so much culture before her eyes that she couldn't help but open her mouth in amazement.

The palace stood before Helen, looking more magnificent and prouder in the evening light than it had ever done before. She turned to look as a few merchants packed away their stalls within the walls of Troy. Helen was surprised to see that some of the Trojan people had begun to gather outside their homes to watch as she and Paris walked up to the palace. Once she had looked at her surroundings, Helen returned her attention to the palace and distinctly saw two women watching her.

Paris had never felt more frightened in his entire life, and felt even more guilt seep through his veins when he looked up to the palace to see Andromache and Polyxena watching him. He squeezed Helen's hand, wishing to receive comfort from her and she gently squeezed him in return. Paris had never been aware of what he was really doing by bringing Helen to Troy, not until now when he saw two of his family members that he loved dearly, and saw how they were even more frightened than he was.

When only a few steps remained before the hall, Paris saw that only Polyxena and Andromache waited for him there, with a couple of his father's guards. He had not expected a great gathering of people, but he had hoped to see more of his family, especially his mother and father waiting to greet him.

"Welcome home brother," said Polyxena, her voice quivering somewhat. She attempted to smile as she embraced Paris, but found she couldn't as she didn't wish to reassure either her brother or the Spartan Queen.

"Thank you Polyxena," said Paris and smiled, though it was a feeble one. He then turned to Andromache and was about to greet her when he saw the shock and anger in her eyes – the anger of him bringing anything remotely dangerous to Troy … to her husband. A brief pause passed by before Paris quickly greeted Andromache and then stepped back beside Helen.

"Father wishes to see you Paris," said a voice they all recognised. The owner of the voice stepped into the light of the burning torches in the hall and they saw Hector. He walked beside his wife, not wishing to be too near his brother because he felt an overwhelming urge to strike him for his idiocy.

Paris looked to Helen, fearing the tone in Hector's voice, and was worried to leave her.

"Paris, you are to come with me to see father now!" said Hector sternly. He then turned to look at Queen Helen and saw how nervous she appeared. "Queen Helen, you are to go to the women's quarters with my wife and sister." He then gestured to Andromache and then to Polyxena.

Helen smiled at both Andromache and Polyxena, but neither of them returned the gesture and she didn't blame them. She knew that the women before her now understood what would happen to Troy by her coming there, she saw the fear within their eyes, even though they tried to hide it. Helen could see it so clearly within them because she held the same fear within her heart.

"Everything will be all right," reassured Paris as he embraced Helen and whispered into her ear. He then left with his brother, while Helen left with Polyxena and Andromache.

* * *

The great King of Troy watched from his throne as his two sons walked into his hall. He looked to the elder of his sons and smiled inwardly; he had always been proud of Hector and would continue to forever. Hector was the perfect son in Priam's eyes, but Hector didn't possess everything Priam had wished for in a son. All of the things, mainly personality traits, that Hector didn't have were instead within Paris, and Priam loved his youngest son because of it. Paris reminded Priam of himself as a young man, but Priam knew that he would never have endangered his country like Paris had now. 

Priam stood up from his throne and raised his head proudly. Paris knelt down in front of his father and then stood to his feet again. Hector took his place beside his father's throne once more and watched every movement between his father and brother with terrible anxiety.

"How _dare_ you steal the King of Sparta's wife and bring her_ here_!" roared Priam. "Did you expect us to welcome you and the Spartan Queen with open arms when the Kings of the Aegean follow you here?"

Paris's eyes widened in fear and he didn't dare to look into the furious eyes of his father.

"_Did you?_" demanded Priam. He was then persuaded back into his chair by his wife, who feared for his heart.

"No I did not," mumbled Paris, although he secretly had.

Cassandra suddenly appeared from the end of the room. She slowly walked up to her brother and studied him carefully with her eyes. "The Spartan _must_ be returned to her husband!"

"NO!" cried Paris and looked up to his father, his eyes begging him. "Please father, you cannot return Helen to Sparta!"

"You have brought war to our shores!" shouted Priam.

"_Agamemnon_ and the other Kings of the Aegean present war … not I," whispered Paris.

Priam looked to his son and knew he spoke the truth. Agamemnon especially, Priam knew, would have waged war against Troy no matter what. Paris's act had only proved a great advantage to the King of Mycenae, because it made war quicker and easier.

"_No_," said Cassandra hoarsely as she looked from her father and then to her brother, "no … the Queen must be returned to Sparta!" She hurried to her father and knelt down before him. "Father do not make the same mistake again, you can change the fate of Troy with_ one_ act … do it!"

"Bring the Queen here!" Priam ordered to his guards, ignoring his daughter.

"NO!" screamed Cassandra.

Hecuba hurried to her daughter and tried to soothe her but Cassandra kept begging her father to return the Queen to Sparta.

"Take her away!" Priam said, ordering his wife to take Cassandra to her chamber.

Cassandra burst out into a fit of screaming and tears while her mother attempted to soothe her and walk her to her chamber. Hecuba did not conceal her own tears as they flowed down her pale and aged cheeks.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm really sorry about the lack of Andromache and Hector together in the last few chapters, I really am. As I've said before, I need to get a lot of things into these important chapters as they'll play a role in the end of the story. 

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **Thank you, I'm really glad you're continuing to like this! Thank you and thank you for the review :)

**Donna Lynn – **I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter! Thank you, and thank you for the review :)

**Queen Arwen – **Sorry for the lack of H/A, there will be more focus on them soon. Thank you for reviewing :)

**Kitera – **Thank you for the review! I'm really glad you enjoyed the chapter, thank you :) I hate Agamemnon too, but he'll get what's coming to him eventually.


	39. Chapter 39

The Queen of Sparta was taken from the women's quarters to King Priam's hall by two of his guards. She felt even more nervous now she was to meet the King, which she had expected, but not quite so soon.

Polyxena and Andromache had not spoken to Helen as they walked her to the women's quarters and then sat with her until the guards came. Neither of the Princesses knew what to say to the Spartan Queen and so remained silent.

Helen examined the palace of Troy, or what she saw of it now, while she was led to Priam's hall. She had never seen a palace so grand and beautiful, and was amazed.

The guards opened the doors to Priam's hall for Helen and she hesitantly walked in. She saw all the faces of people in the room suddenly turn to look at her, she even heard a few of the people gasp as she walked past them and to where Paris stood. Even though she detested being gaped at by men, she felt less sickened by the actions of these men because she felt they would never try to harm her.

King Priam's eyes wandered over Queen Helen of Sparta. He was surprised she was so beautiful and instantly believed the gossips of her being the daughter of Zeus. Before seeing Helen, Priam had decided to send Helen to Sparta, but now that he saw her he had changed his mind.

It was indeed true that Helen was the daughter of Zeus, and it was because of this that Priam decided to allow Helen to remain in Troy. He believed that no harm would come to Troy if the daughter of the greatest God was inside its walls.

"The Kings of the Aegean do not come to Troy to retrieve the wife of one of them," said Priam and he looked at Helen. "We know King Agamemnon and his brother King Menelaus wish to have Troy as their own." He looked to the Elders of Troy and they nodded and murmured in agreement. "We also know that King Agamemnon has sacrificed his daughter, Iphigenia, for the soul purpose of gaining favourable winds to Troy."

Helen gasped at Priam's words and grasped onto Paris's hand. She had loved her niece Iphigenia and felt she was partly to blame for her death. Helen then thought of her dear sister Clytemnestra and wondered how she coped with the severe loss to her heart.

"King Agamemnon is not a man of peace!" continued Priam and looked again at Helen. "And because of this we ask you, Queen Helen, to consider Troy as your home. If you accept our offer then you will henceforth be known as Helen of Troy! Do you accept?"

Helen looked to Paris and he smiled kindly to her. She stepped forward and bowed before Priam. "I accept your generous offer to me, King Priam."

* * *

Hector returned to his chamber later that night after begging his father to return Helen to her husband, but Priam would not relent on the matter. Hector slammed his chamber door behind him as he entered it, which caused Andromache to jump slightly. 

Andromache had returned to their chamber once Helen had been taken to Priam. She had a severe headache and decided to rest, but found no comfort in resting while Troy was on the brink of war. She looked up to her husband now and waited for an answer as to what Priam had decided.

"My father has allowed Helen to remain in Troy," said Hector, knowing what Andromache's look asked. He sat down on the bed beside Andromache and took her hand within his own.

A moan escaped Andromache's mouth. "Does your father know what this means … does he know what will happen now?" She looked to her husband for reassurance but found none within his saddened eyes.

"He does," Hector answered, "but he believes Troy's walls can withstand any army."

"Any army?" repeated Andromache incredulously. "It is not any _army_; it is more than _one_ army! It is the _entire_ Aegean fleet!"

Hector nodded, he had repeated the same words to his father, but his father had ignored him. He turned to look at Andromache and brushed a few strands of her hair from her eyes. "I wish I could change this, I do … but I can't. My father's word is law, you know that Andromache."

Andromache nodded sadly. "I know…-,"

"Don't blame me," said Hector.

"Why would I blame you?" asked Andromache, shocked. "I could never blame you Hector."

"If I had stayed in Sparta with Paris," said Hector desperately, "or if I had sent him to Troy before me then perhaps … perhaps this would not have happened."

Andromache placed her hands on Hector's cheeks and gazed into his eyes. "Never blame yourself Hector! This is not your doing, you did not ask Paris to steal the Spartan Queen! If you wish to blame someone, then blame _them_!"

Hector looked at his wife for a few moments and then leaned in to kiss her.

* * *

In Paris's chamber he and Helen lay next to one another on his bed. He turned to look at Helen and smiled, he couldn't have imagined letting her return to her husband Menelaus, he would rather die than see her with him again. 

"I thought I was going to be sentenced to death when your father asked for me today," Helen said, and ran her hand along Paris's bare chest, "but I was wrong. I had not imagined your father to be so kind and generous."

Paris smiled proudly. He would never be able to thank his father enough for allowing Helen to remain in Troy, but he would later wonder if it was a mistake. "Yes, my father is definitely that." He looked down to Helen and then spoke again, as if reading her thoughts. "My family are shocked with me, they do not dislike you Helen. Once they know you, they will not be able to stop from loving you."

Helen smiled, although feared Paris's words would never be true.

* * *

A cold wind blew through the balcony of Hector and Andromache's chamber. Hector awoke with a slight start and immediately rose from his bed and dressed. He soon left the chamber, leaving his wife still sleeping in their bed, and walked down to the stables. 

Hector hadn't enjoyed the privilege of a long ride for almost two weeks, and wished to ride his horse before the morning meal, and before Andromache woke. He turned into the stables and jumped at the sight of Helen stroking his horse, who had stretched its neck out over the gate to its stable.

Hearing footsteps approach her, Helen immediately turned to see Hector walking up to her. Her heart rate quickly decreased and she released a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry," said Helen and removed her hand from brushing the horse's mane, "I woke early and was eager to explore the palace. I should have asked … I'm sorry."

"You have no need to be sorry," said Hector stiffly. "Troy is your home now too."

Helen bowed her head in embarrassment; she had seen the look of dismay cross Hector's face when he heard she was to remain in Troy. "Thank you Prince Hector."

"You may call me Hector," he said.

Helen nodded.

"Have you asked Paris for a tour of the palace?" Hector asked, not attempting to hide his annoyed tone when speaking of his brother.

"No," said Helen quietly, "not yet at least."

Hector nodded, not knowing what else he could say. "Well … I was just about to go for a ride …-,"

"Yes … well I should return to my … to Paris's chamber," said Helen and quickly walked away without saying goodbye.

* * *

Andromache awoke shortly after Hector had left and was startled to not find him in their chamber. She presumed he had been called away by his father and ate breakfast by herself before calling Xanthe to help her dress and prepare her hair. 

Hector soon returned to their chamber, looking quite flustered after his brief ride outside of the walls of Troy. He sat down on his bed and watched as Xanthe clipped the last strands of Andromache's hair into place, when she had finished he asked her to leave him and Andromache.

"What's wrong?" asked Andromache and turned in her chair to face Hector.

"I think you should try and be kind to Helen," said Hector, not looking into Andromache's eyes that glared angrily at him, "she could probably do with a friend."

Andromache stood up off the chair. "How can you even suggest such a thing Hector? Have you gone mad? She brings war to Troy Hector, and now you wish me to be friends with _her_!"

"War has not come to Troy _yet_," snarled Hector, "and she … she might have been persuaded to come here by Paris, you know the affect he has on women!"

"I have not brought war to Troy because of Paris, and I'm a woman!" screamed Andromache. She was silent for a few moments and then spoke again, her tone low and vicious. "Helen knew exactly what she was doing by coming to Troy, she knew what would happen. Have you heard she even left her daughter to come here, she left her daughter Hector, what sort of a woman would do that?"

"At least she had a child to leave!" snapped Hector, then immediately wished to take back the foolish words. He had been thinking about children a lot over the last few months, it crept into his dreams at night and into his thoughts during the day.

Andromache looked at Hector, tears gathering in her ocean like eyes, and then sunk back down on the chair. She couldn't believe Hector had said such a thing, or even that he had thought it. Once before, Andromache had thought Hector was desperate for children, but he had put her mind to rest on that. She had never dreamed he would blame her, because he had said he didn't, even though she blamed herself.

"I'm sorry Andromache," said Hector and walked over to his wife. "I did not mean what I said, I swear it."

Andromache pushed her husband away, and held a hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs. _It's my fault_, she thought, _it's all my fault Hector does not have a child. What if he leaves me because I haven't given him children? _

"I … I need to go for a walk," stuttered Andromache and hastily wiped away her tears. She stood up and walked over to where a pale blue shawl lay on the table and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Please Andromache, please don't go now!" said Hector and tried to stop Andromache from leaving the chamber.

"I don't blame you for saying what you did," said Andromache and her voice quivered slightly. "But leave me now." She then quickly left the chamber.

Andromache had heard of an old woman in the poor section of the city. The woman was said to be specialized in child bearing and had potions for those that wished for children, and those that wished to kill their child while pregnant with it. For a few months Andromache had considered seeing this woman, but pushed the thought away because the potions were probably useless, but now she was desperate.

Women, especially married Princesses or Queens, were thought by many men to have been born for the sole purpose of bearing children. Kings married women so they could have heirs who would take control of their Kingdom once they had passed away. Of course, there were a few exceptions and some men did not think so lowly of women. Andromache knew though, that it was her _duty _to provide Troy with an heir.

For almost three years Andromache had been married to Hector and not once had she been with child, although she had thought she was once. Andromache feared that if she did not provide Troy with an heir then she would be forced to see Hector remarry another, fertile, woman who could provide him with heirs. It was common for men to remarry if their previous wife did not provide them with children. Although Andromache knew Hector would never willingly leave her, she felt frightened that he may he forced to.

Andromache quickly walked through the city and to the poor section. She did not know what house the women lived in and so asked a young girl, who appeared to not recognise her.

"She's in the house with a chair outside it," said the girl, "it's at the end of this path."

Following the girls words, Andromache walked to the end of the path and saw a house with a wooden chair outside it. She gently rapped on the door, inwardly feeling sick and nervous.

Almost immediately, the door was opened and revealed an old woman with streaks of grey running through her dark brown hair. Her face was lightly wrinkled and tanned, and she didn't appear to be older than fifty.

"Come in," she said and opened the door wide enough for Andromache to enter.

A stench of rotten vegetables and herbs overwhelmed Andromache as she stepped into the house. It was incredibly dark and only a few torches were lit inside it. The woman pointed to a chair beside a table with an old cloth covering it, and Andromache sat in it.

"Why do you come to me?" asked the woman and sat down in a chair opposite Andromache on the other side of the table.

"I err … I wished to …," Andromache stuttered, her nerves overcoming her words, "I wish to have a child." She gained more courage and spoke again as the woman began to study her. "I have been married for almost three years and I still have had no children."

"Have you ever lost a child before it was due?" asked the woman and continued to watch Andromache carefully.

"No … I've never even been with child," said Andromache and lowered her head.

"But you want to be now," said the woman, but it was no question. She stood up and walked over to another small table behind her. On top of the table stood masses of different sized potion bottles, she picked one of them up and examined its contents before placing it on the table Andromache rested her hands on, and then returned to her chair.

"This potion may help you," said the woman quietly, "but it may not. Sometimes my potions do not work, even I will admit that." She sighed and then proceeded. "If you wish to be with child then take this and drink it after you have made love with your husband, and before you sleep tonight. You may experience some nausea and dizziness, but that should only last for a few days."

Andromache nodded.

"I would not suggest you take this though," continued the woman. "You know as well as me, Princess Andromache, that the Gods control us and they may not have chosen this to be the time for you to have children."

Andromache's eyes widened, she thought the woman had not recognised her. She immediately stood up; she couldn't be seen in a place like this, especially if someone knew who she was. "I'm sorry for taking your time."

"You will have a child one day Andromache," said the woman and rose to her feet also. She stepped nearer to the Princess and smiled kindly. "I will not speak of you coming here to anyone."

"Thank you," said Andromache and smiled sadly, she didn't even care that the woman had not addressed her properly. She then left the women's house and slowly returned to the palace.

It was true that Andromache would have a child, and he would be healthy and strong. But that child would be ripped from her bosom in years to come, when fire and blood had rushed through Troy and the palace had burned to the ground. She would have a child, but lose him and lose everything that she loved.

* * *

**A/N: **This is quite a long chapter and almost all of the remaining chapters of this story will be around this length also. Also, in this there will never be anything between Helen and Hector. 

Thank you for all the reviews so far and please keep reviewing if you read this because it really spurs me on to write more :)

**Queen Arwen – **I'm sorry but Helen will be remaining in Troy, even though shooting her with flaming arrows is a good idea ;) I'm really glad you got into the last chapter and thanks for the review!

**Donna Lynn – **You're right about Priam being a fool, I think of him to have been one. Nothing much will happen to Cassandra now, although some things may happen to her closer to the end. Thank you for reviewing :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm glad you like the fast updates, I plan to update twice a week from now on. I'm really glad you like this and that you've added it to your favourites, thank you and thank you for the review :)


	40. Chapter 40

Piercing cries of Trojans suddenly erupted in the city of Troy. It was almost as if terror was sweeping over the shores of Troy and was racing within the city, and every person it touched immediately began to scream hoarsely.

Women and children, with tears either filling or trickling from their terrified eyes, fled into the safety of the walls of Troy. The men that did not help the women and children instead raced to armory and immediately began to dress in battle armor.

Hector's eyes suddenly shot open. He rose from his bed quickly, as it was barely morning, and wrapped a sheet around bare his waist, then walked out to the balcony to see the cause of such noise. His eyes widened in shock, amazement and fear.

"What is it?" asked Andromache worriedly. She stepped out onto the balcony also, after being awoken by Hector's abrupt leap from their bed, and gasped.

Hundreds upon hundreds, if not a thousand, ships were sailing towards the beaches of Troy. Symbols representing different Kings of the Aegean were painted on the sails of these ships. And with each gust of wind they drew closer to their destination.

Without saying a word, Hector hurried into his chamber once more. He went to the stand that held his armor, and began to place piece by piece over his body.

Andromache stood out on the balcony for a few moments and stared at Hector, her eyes wide and scared. She composed herself greatly that morning; she wished to cry but contained the river of tears within her successfully. Andromache wanted nothing more than to beg Hector to remain in their chamber with her, where he was safe, but she knew he would never do that. Hector was a warrior, a warrior from birth and till death; therefore he would never abandon his country.

As Hector placed his helmet on his head, he turned to look at Andromache and slowly walked over to her. He embraced her tightly, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, and then kissed her passionately before releasing her from his arms.

"I love you Andromache," he said.

"I love you too," she replied and smiled weakly. She then watched as Hector ran from their chamber and to the aid of his countrymen.

* * *

The high King Agamemnon smiled evilly from his ship as he looked upon the famous Troy and its glorious walls. He had never seen Troy before, and savored the drops of delight he gained in seeing it. _Soon …_ soon_ it will be mine_, he thought. 

"Your wife awaits you," Agamemnon said to his brother, after marveling at the walls of Troy. He smiled with grim satisfaction when he saw the look of anger in his brother's eyes.

Menelaus nodded. He wanted Helen at his side once more, but he feared the Trojan Prince would not return her to him. _If I do not get Helen_, he thought angrily, _I will bring Troy to the ground!_

"When we arrive at Troy you will call for peace," said Agamemnon, "you will then speak with King Priam and _ask_ for your wife to be returned to you."

Menelaus nodded once again, he and Agamemnon had spoke of this a dozen times since they had left Aulis, but he suddenly found a flaw in their plan. "Do you think King Priam will believe we come for peace when we have so many armies?"

Agamemnon frowned. "King Priam knows if Helen is not returned to you then you will wage war against him. He is a wise King, a little foolish perhaps, but he'll know to return Helen to you."

Menelaus swallowed deeply. He looked to the sparkling beaches of Troy and smiled inwardly. As a child he had dreamed of seeing Troy, he had never imagined seeing it when he was about to wage war against it.

A few minutes passed while Agamemnon and Menelaus looked at Troy and dwelled over past times. Agamemnon then called for his men to stop the ship by putting the anchor in the sea. Seeing the signal to stop sailing, every last ship dropped their anchors into the sea and their ships suddenly stopped.

On one small boat King Menelaus and King Odysseus of Ithaca, who was at first reluctant to join the armies against Troy, sailed to the beaches with a group of soldiers.

As soon as Menelaus and Odysseus had reached the beaches of Troy, they jumped from their boat – leaving the soldiers within it still – and onto the sand. Their sandals immediately sank into the wet sand, and water lapped over their sweating feet.

Prince Hector of Troy sat proudly on his horse in front of at least thirty soldiers – all on horseback. His eyes washed over Menelaus, and the man beside him, with disgust growing in them. He jumped down from his horse and slowly walked up to the two Kings.

Menelaus opened his mouth to speak, but Odysseus sensed that he would speak rashly and so spoke first.

"Prince Hector of Troy," greeted Odysseus, even though he had never seen the Prince before – Menelaus had told him who the man was. He looked awkwardly at Menelaus for a brief moment and then looked once more to Hector. "King Menelaus wishes to have his wife, Queen Helen of Sparta, returned to him. If Prince Paris returns Queen Helen to King Menelaus then we will return to our homes and no harm will come to your people."

Hector slowly gripped a hand over his sword by his side; he was ready to use it if needed. He thought for a few moments before speaking. "My father, King Priam, wishes to speak with you both. Follow me."

Horses were handed to King Menelaus and King Odysseus. Soldiers rode in front and behind them as they rode away from the shore and inside the walls of Troy.

* * *

Once again, King Priam sat in his hall with the Elders of Troy. He waited anxiously for the arrival of the two Kings and gripped onto the sides of his throne to stop from shaking vigorously. 

The giant doors at the end of the hall suddenly burst open. Prince Hector leaded two men into the hall and took his place by his father, leaving King Menelaus and King Odysseus to stand in the center of the hall alone.

Priam surveyed both men before him with his eyes. He could instantly distinguish which man was the King of Sparta, and who was the King of Ithaca. He waited for one of them to speak, determined not to greet either of these men.

"_Good_ King Priam," began Menelaus and his voice shook. He looked to Odysseus for support who urged him on with his eyes, "I come to Troy for the sole purpose of having my wife returned to me."

Priam smiled mockingly and rose to his feet. "Do not lie to me King Menelaus! You do not come to Troy only for your wife, which is merely an excuse. You come to Troy for war!"

"_Return Helen to me_!" growled Menelaus, his eyes narrowing in rage.

"Forgive my friend King Priam," pleaded Odysseus, wishing to intervene before Menelaus spoke again, "he is suffering from a severe blow to his heart after losing the woman he loves dearly. King Menelaus comes to Troy to have that his wife restored to him, no more."

"Why bring thousands of men to Troy if that is King Menelaus's soul purpose?" asked Hector angrily.

A flicker of a smile flashed across Odysseus's face, but he quickly disguised it as a look of confusion. "We bring thousands of men because we fear Queen Helen will not be returned to her_ husband_."

The doors to the end of the hall suddenly slammed shut and all turned to see Paris marching to where the two Kings of the Aegean stood. Anger had swept over his once joyful face, and he gritted his teeth in rage.

"Helen will _never_ be returned to _you_!" spat Paris when he drew closer to Menelaus.

Menelaus withdrew the sword by his side and pointed it at Paris. He stepped forward, smiling wickedly when he saw the fear on Paris's face. Hector and a number of other guards quickly ran to Paris's aid when they saw Menelaus withdraw his sword and direct it to Paris's throat.

Odysseus whispered into Menelaus's ear quickly and managed to persuade him to lower his sword.

"I will bring this city to the ground!" snarled Menelaus and pushed himself away from Odysseus.

"Please King Priam," said Odysseus quickly, "please forgive that outburst. If you intend to return Helen to her husband then do so at dawn tomorrow, if you do not …,"

Priam nodded, he knew exactly what would happen if Helen was not returned to King Menelaus. He called for guards to take both of the Kings out of the palace and to their ships.

Hector watched as Odysseus and Menelaus left, he was breathing heavily from hurrying to his brother's side in order to protect him. He spat down on the cold marble floor and stared angrily at his brother.

"_That _is what I think of you!" Hector growled to his brother, and pointed to the saliva on the floor. He then marched from the hall and to the walls of Troy where he finished the battle plan with the soldiers who were destined to fight the next day, and until they died.

* * *

The blazing sun rose high up into the sky on the morning after the Kings and their armies of the Aegean had sailed to Troy. The Kings woke before dawn and waited, even when they knew what would happen, for the Queen of Sparta and she did not come. 

No soldiers from Troy brought word to the Kings that had already sailed onto the beaches and had begun to set up their camps. No one knew how long the war would last, or that it would result in only heartbreak and suffering to all, and that each of the Kings of the Aegean would regret what they had finished.

Menelaus slowly dressed into his battle attire with the help of a young boy that had followed his father to Troy. The King looked off from his ship, as his tents where still being prepared, and off to the city he wished to burn. He thought of Helen there, waiting for him to seek revenge, and smiled bitterly at the thought. He wanted her to feel pain, she deserved it after all she had done to him, but still he wanted her back by his side.

"Soldiers of the Aegean!" roared Agamemnon and stood onto his ship, and looked to the thousands of soldiers gathering beneath it. "We come to Troy for war! Let us have this city to the ground before nightfall and then we can return to our homes!"

The soldiers cheered in agreement, they desired to return to their homes after the long absence from them.

"Take no pity on any _Trojan_," continued Agamemnon, spitting the word _'Trojan'_, "let each of them feel the true weight of the Kings of the Aegean and their great armies!"

More cheers from the soldiers broke out and Menelaus turned away. He had always hated to see his brother invoke the brutality within each soldier's heart. He looked to the soldiers once more and saw them change from simple country men, to men thirsty to inhale the stench of blood.

* * *

The soldiers of Troy, dressed in their finest armor and prepared with their swords and shields that caught the light of the bright sun, began to leave the safety and comfort of the walls of Troy and march out in front of them. Generals on horseback commanded the obedient soldiers into line and then rode to the front of the lines. 

The commander of Troy's army suddenly raced out from the walls of Troy and to the front of the lines where he stood in front of the other generals. The commander, the great Prince Hector of Troy, called to his fellow warriors.

"Trojans!" yelled Hector as he rode along the soldiers so they could all hear him. "All my life I've lived by a code, and the code is simple. Honour the Gods, love your woman, and defend your country!"

An outbreak of agreement, in the form of thunderous cries, broke out from the soldiers.

"Troy is mother to us all," continued Hector, "_fight_ for her now!"

The soldiers roared in agreement once more and thrust their spears up into the air.

Hector took his place once more in front of his warriors. He adjusted his helmet so it was firmly on his head, and noticed how quickly he was breathing. He flexed his fingers and gripped tightly onto his sword. For a brief moment he looked up to the walls of Troy and saw his wife looking down on him, her face wasn't greatly visible from where he was but he could tell that she was smiling at him nonetheless.

Andromache stood on the walls of Troy. She clasped her hands onto the wall and scanned the soldiers for sight of her husband, and at last she saw him. She smiled nervously.

Hecuba was carefully walking up the steps to the wall, with a few of her handmaidens following her closely behind, and walked up to Andromache. She took her daughter-in-law in her arms and hugged her tightly.

"Hector will be safe," whispered Hecuba as she embraced Andromache.

"For how long though?" said Andromache, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her head against Hecuba's robes.

Hecuba did not answer; there was nothing she could say to ease Andromache's pain. Hecuba had been in Andromache's position on more than one occasion when Priam had fought in battle, each time he did was like a knife had torn viciously at her heart. She led Andromache to her throne beside Priam, and then Hecuba sat on the other side of her husband.

A few minutes passed before Andromache saw Paris and Helen walking towards her, and taking their places next to her. She clasped her hands together and ignored Paris's glances towards her, she knew he wanted to speak with her but didn't care. Andromache had stopped caring for Paris when he brought war to those she loved.

* * *

Cries of war began throughout the beaches of Troy. The Greeks chanted loudly while marching to the gates of Troy, and the Trojans waited anxiously for battle. Nearly a thousand archers were scattered on the city's walls, all posed for battle from where they stood. Hundreds of Trojans, countrymen and women, stood on the walls also and watched the scene before them with fear. 

Every last Trojan went silent as they heard the Greeks draw near; their thunderous war cries filled every ear. The sunlight caught every Greek shield and the Greeks appeared like Gods marching towards the gates of Troy.

Dozen's of women, whose relatives were Trojan soldiers, begin to moan loudly because they feared for their sons, fathers, husbands, brothers and other relatives. They peered over the walls of Troy and clung onto one another for emotional support.

The armies of the Aegean and their Kings suddenly halted, leaving a gap between them and the Trojan army. It was obvious how small the army of Troy was compared to the armies of all the Aegean.

On chariots, King Agamemnon and King Menelaus rode out to meet Prince Hector and General Glaucus – who rode into the middle of the gap between the armies. Menelaus instantly began to search the soldiers in the front line for Paris when he sees that the Prince is not riding with Hector.

Agamemnon smiled viciously when he saw the look of fear cross over Hector and Glaucus's faces. He steadied his horses and then passed them to his slave who stood beside him on the chariot. He stepped off the chariot and walked to where Hector and Glaucus now stood after dismounting their horses.

"You can save thousands of men dying Prince Hector, _if_ your brother returns Queen Helen to my brother," said Agamemnon smugly. They all knew that even if Helen had been returned to Menelaus, it wouldn't have ended a war between Troy and Greece.

"Helen of Troy will not be returned to King Menelaus," said Glaucus, his voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard to Menelaus.

Menelaus's head shot up at the words: _'Helen of Troy'_. He laughed sarcastically at the new title for his wife.

"Then you have sealed your fate!" snarled Agamemnon. He snatched the reins of his horses from his slave. Then Agamemnon snapped his whip across the backs of his brown stallions, causing Hector to grimace in disgust, and raced to the front line of his army, as did Menelaus.

Hector and Glaucus quickly mounted their horses once more and rode to the front lines of the Trojan army. Hector raised his sword into the air once he had had reached the front lines.

"FOR TROY!" he roared from the top of his lungs, pointing his sword high up into the air and then bringing it back down by his side.

"Troy!" yelled the soldiers in unison.

The Trojans suddenly charged at the Greeks and Hector led them on horseback. He saw the Greeks begin to charge towards him and slaughtered every man that crossed his path. His sword sliced the throats of men beneath him, a sharp and delicate cut to each of their throats.

A shower of arrows suddenly rained down upon the Greeks who cried aloud in pain as death took them to the underworld. The foul stench of blood began to fill the air and trickle through the once glittering sand. And on the walls of Troy the Trojans cried out for their loved ones, watching with their own eyes as relatives or friends fell to the ground and never rose again.

* * *

**A/N: **I had a lot to get into this chapter, so that's why I didn't show that Andromache and Hector made up – but they did. I was thrilled with the reviews, and that most of you wanted to slap Hector – it was what I was aiming for when I wrote it :) I also added dialogue from "Troy" because I couldn't resist! Please keep reviewing :) 

**Queen Arwen – **I'm glad you wanted to slap Hector! Thank you for reviewing and I'm really glad you enjoyed the chapter :)

**Donna Lynn – **I've not yet decided how Hector and Helen's relationship will unfold, I know for certain that there will be no romance between them though. Thank you for the review :)

**aLL aMeRIcAn gIRl 50 - **If you look back to chapter 33, that was the last chapter we will see Oenone in for a while, basically Oenone and Paris left one another and Paris fell in love with Helen. Thank you for the review :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm glad you're enjoying the long chapters as there will be more of them. It's great that you're enjoying this, thank you, and thank you for the review :)

**Idun03 – **Helen is definitely the most popular person in Troy, other than the Greeks, and she will continue to, till the end I think. I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter and felt for Andromache, thank you and thank you for the review :)

**Kelly – **Thank you for reviewing and I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter :)

**Kitera – **I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, thanks! Thank you for reviewing for chapter 38&39 too :)


	41. Chapter 41

A cold wind blew through Hector and Andromache's chamber. Andromache awoke with a start and hurried over to wrap a shawl around her bare and shivering arms. She looked out to the balcony from where she stood, by her table, and sighed nervously. Another day had dawned, another day when she would sit and watch as her husband fought with the Greeks.

Over a year had passed since war had come to Troy, and it had seemed as if the whole Kingdom had eased into a frightening routine. Warriors would march out of the walls of Troy and fight until sunset. Those who had been injured on the field would either be taken to their homes or to houses prepared to help them. The dead would be gathered by the living and funeral pyres would be built for them. Each night relatives or friends would walk to the pyres of their lost one and place two coins on each of their eyes. And this is how the days passed, day by day.

Hector groaned and slowly sat up in his bed. He looked to where Andromache stood, a distant look spreading across her face, and smiled. He stepped out of his bed, pulled a sheet around his waist, and wrapped his arms around his wife.

"Must you fight today?" asked Andromache.

Hector smiled weakly as he nuzzled against Andromache's hair. She would ask that question every morning, and every morning he would give her the same answer she dreaded to her.

"You know I must," he said quietly. He released his arms from around Andromache's slender waist and walked over to the stand that held his armor.

"Will you watch from the walls again today?" asked Hector simply.

Andromache turned her head slowly to look at Hector, her mouth opened slightly. She couldn't believe he spoke of fighting so easily. Each day she felt as if a part of her had left when Hector left for battle. She would work at her loom for hours to keep her mind occupied and not on the thought of Hector being injured … or killed.

"I can't do this anymore Hector!" cried Andromache, and stepped away from Hector when he turned to look at her and held his arms out for her. "I can't watch while you fight, you … you know how it torments me."

"Helen watches each day," whispered Hector, "she can be there if you need someone."

"Oh gods," shrieked Andromache, "have you fallen under her spell as well?" She suddenly silenced herself. Her darkest fear, except that Hector would die in the war, was that he was attracted by Helen. She had watched them converse together with hawk like eyes, searching for the slightest trace of affection between them.

"NO!" shouted Hector honestly. "I only thought that if you were not alone on the walls, if you were with someone you knew then it might be more comforting to you." He paused for breath and then spoke again, this time more softly. "I look up to the walls when we go out to fight each day and I look for you, I want to see you there watching."

Andromache nodded. She knew it gave Hector comfort to fight if he saw her, it even spurred him on. When he saw Andromache on the walls he imagined the Greeks winning the war and him losing her, so he fought harder with the fear blazing in his heart.

"I'm sorry Hector," she said sadly and walked up to her husband. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head against his chest. "I'll watch from the walls."

* * *

Helen looked out past the city walls and saw small brown dots where the Greek boats rested on the shores of Troy. She gripped her small hands on the wall of Troy and smiled as the wind began to catch her hair and blow rebelliously behind her. Helen had come to watch as her countrymen fought against the Trojans, she always arrived at the walls shortly after dawn and before people came there. 

The Spartan would watch each day as Greeks lunged to their deaths, and felt a sense of guilt because of it. She would always be a Greek, never a Trojan and she felt more sadness at seeing Greeks die than Trojans. The only reason Helen remained in Troy was because of Paris, her greatest love. She didn't remain to be whispered about by gossips, or to receive cold stares from those around her … she remained only for Paris.

Andromache walked up the wide steps leading to the section on the walls of Troy where members of the royal household, Elders of Troy and other select men and women stood to watch the battles each day. She decided to arrive their early that morning, and left with Hector when he went to the armory, because she wished to prepare herself for what she was to see again.

At the sound of footsteps, Helen spun around in her white robe embroidered with gold thread, to see Andromache stepping up onto the last step to the wall. She slowly turned away, not wishing to invite Andromache to speak with her.

Andromache, with her brown hair bellowing with the wind at her sides, gasped quietly when she saw Helen. She hadn't expected anyone other than the archers and guards to be on the walls so early.

Slowly, Andromache walked up beside Helen and looked out to the sea. She breathed in the cool air and turned to look at Helen, who was trying to avoid her eyes.

"Do you feel _any_ guilt for bringing war to Troy?" asked Andromache, unable to contain the words she had wished to speak since Helen had arrived.

Helen appeared taken aback by Andromache's question. Her cheeks burned and she gritted her teeth in anger, and then slowly turned to look at Andromache. "Do you feel guilt for not providing Troy with an heir?"

Andromache's mouth opened in shock, and her face flushed in anger. She took a few moments to answer. "There will be no need for heirs, Helen, when Troy burns to the ground because of _you_!"

"You're right," said Helen quietly. She then drifted, the ends of her robe gathering dust behind her, down the steps leading off the walls of Troy and to her bed chamber.

Helen slammed her chamber door behind her and wasn't surprised to find that Paris had left. She sat down on her bed and wept quietly. She regretted ever coming to Troy, especially for leaving her daughter behind.

It wasn't uncommon knowledge to know that Prince Paris continued to bed other women while he had the most beautiful woman in his bed each night. When Helen learned of this, nearly three months since the Greeks had arrived in Troy; she slapped Paris and screamed at him for hours. But now she tolerated Paris's infidelity, after all they weren't married and never would be.

From that day on Helen and Andromache never spoke of what they had spoken of to one another on the walls of Troy. They carried on as mere acquaintances, but never friends.

* * *

**A/N:** Some people say that Helen and Paris were married, and some don't. I'm going with the theory that Helen and Paris weren't married, and that Helen is still technically married to Menelaus. Thank you for all of the reviews, it's really lovely, and please keep reviewing :) 

**Queen Arwen – **Menelaus and Paris both deserve a slap, and I'm _planning_ to have them fight together later on in the story. I'm really glad you enjoyed the chapter and the battle imagery, thank you and thank you for the review :)

**Kitera – **I can understand you don't want Hector to die, I'm not looking forward to it either, but I'm afraid he will die in this, sorry! I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter, thank you and thank you for reviewing :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm glad you like the scenes I've created and that you're enjoying this, thank you! I think you added this to your favourites last time, thank you once again and thank you for reviewing :)

**aLL aMeRIcAn gIRl 50 – **The war has begun, but the war lasts ten years in this so we've still got quite a few chapters to go. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, thank you and thank you for the review :)

**Lily – **I'm really glad you liked the last chapters, thank you! And I'm planning to keep updating this twice a week. Thank you for the review, and take care too :)

**Ithil-valon – **Thank you for reviewing from chapters 37 to 40, and I'm really sorry you had the flu! More will be revealed about Hector's hatred/love for his brother in the coming chapters, but both situations you pointed out were quite telling. Thank you for reviewing the chapters, and I'm really glad you're enjoying this :)


	42. Chapter 42

Seven years of pain and sorrow had now passed over Troy. It seemed almost impossible to think the war between Troy and Greece had lasted for seven long years, but it had. No one was left untouched by the war, every Trojan and Greek was haunted by sights they saw on and off the battle field.

It was not only emotional pain that the Trojans had to overcome, but also the lack of fresh food. As each year passed during the war, the food lessened for all. It was virtually impossible to leave the walls of Troy and hunt in forests, or catch fish from the sea or lakes. Every last grain of food had been dug up from the earth, and it was becoming even harder to grow food within Troy because of the lack of rain and resources.

The royal household also felt the shortage of food, and only on extremely rare occasions were there feasts within the palace – even then the food was less than what it used to be.

Almost each piece of gold was used for more horses, men and armor to defend the walls of Troy that had never been breached. Princess Polyxena and Andromache, including a few others, had given their jewels to King Priam so more money could be gathered for food and for battle purposes. Helen of Troy had not offered her jewels to King Priam, which made the people of Troy dislike her even more.

Helen was thought by many to be the reason why war had come to Troy; most of the people were ignorant that war would have come to Troy regardless of whether Helen had been returned to her husband. Even those in the palace didn't attempt to hide their dislike towards Helen. Helen had severely changed since first arriving in Troy and appearing to be nervous and timid to all, she now acted as if there was no war outside Troy's walls and ordered for new robes each month, even if Paris refused her.

* * *

Hector returned to his chamber after another day of battle. It was beginning to feel like a task to fight for his country, instead of a matter of honour and duty. He stepped into his chamber and quietly closed the door behind him when he saw Andromache was once again working at her loom. 

Andromache hadn't gone to the walls that day to watch as Hector fought bravely, instead she remained in their chamber and weaved garments for the coming winter. She scowled when the thin thread broke once more. The thread Andromache used was the cheapest available and terribly flimsy. Since the war had started, money had been guarded for mainly food and battle purposes, and was not to be used too sparingly on cloth and thread.

"My mother may have some thread left over from what she used for her servants," said Hector, once he had pulled his oxhide and armor off his sweating torso, "I'll ask her tomorrow."

"No, I'll just use this," said Andromache irritably.

Hector smiled faintly and remained silent. He was aware his wife had been in a trying mood for the past fortnight or so, and didn't relish the thought of aggravating her.

"Your bath is run for you," said Andromache as she stood up from her chair in front of the loom. She smiled and greeted Hector by kissing his lips which tasted of sand and sweat.

"Thank you my love," said Hector softly.

* * *

The next day Princess Polyxena walked through the halls of the palace; she had flourished into a great beauty and would be an ideal wife for a Prince or King, if it were not for the war. It was even more difficult for Polyxena to marry while Troy had a war outside its gates, since there was a desperate lack of gold for her dowry and no Prince or King would wish to link with a country at war. 

The Princess weaved past a few servants who were gossiping madly about Achilles, they saw Polyxena and quickly silenced themselves. Polyxena shuddered at the thought of Achilles, she had heard terrible war tales of him and how he treated his victims.

Polyxena stopped outside Andromache's chamber door and knocked on it gently.

Andromache was leaning on the wall of her balcony when she heard the soft knock on her door. She closed her eyes for a few moments, hoping the person would go away but then she heard another, harder, knock. Andromache sighed heavily and stepped into her chamber and opened the door.

"I didn't you see you on the walls this morning, are you all right?" said Polyxena and entered the chamber without admittance. She sat down at the table.

"I'm fine," said Andromache, rather too happily which roused the suspicion of Polyxena.

"You don't look fine," stated Polyxena as her eyes looked over Andromache's pale and grave face. "Has something happened Andromache?"

Andromache shook her head quickly; she walked over to her dresser and folded a piece of cloth she had used to dry her eyes with earlier that day.

"Please Andromache," said Polyxena gently, "if something has happened then tell me, perhaps I can help."

Andromache looked at Polyxena and sighed heavily. "I am with child."

Polyxena's mouth fell open in shock while Andromache's words registered in her mind. "You're with child?"

"Yes."

"That's wonderful!" squealed Polyxena and clapped her hands together. She laughed happily and then threw her arms around Andromache's neck.

"Yes … it is," whispered Andromache.

* * *

Hector was late in returning to his chamber that night; he had been held in meetings with his father and the army generals. He entered his chamber and saw that Andromache was sleeping on their bed, and he smiled. Andromache always looked so perfect when she slept. 

Carefully, so as not to wake his sleeping wife, Hector removed his armor and placed it on its stand. He then rested on their bed next to his wife, and ran a finger along her bare and slender arm.

_So beautiful_, thought Hector as he looked at his wife. He continued to stroke Andromache's arm until she slowly opened her eyes and looked across to him.

"You're late in returning," stated Andromache and looked at Hector for an explanation.

"There was a meeting I had to attend," said Hector and stopped caressing Andromache's arm.

Andromache sat up on their bed and thought carefully as how she was to word to Hector that she was with their child. She feared telling him in case she lost the child, or that she was incorrect in her assumption that she was pregnant. It was not only telling Hector that Andromache feared, she feared for the life of the child that grew in her womb. She imagined their child growing up in the city while the war still carried on, and she couldn't bear to think that her child would have to see Troy like it was now – no child should have to see it she thought.

"Hector, there's something I need to tell you," said Andromache. She turned to look at Hector and to the curious expression that spread across his face. She reached out for his hand and held it within her own for a few moments before speaking. "I'm …-,"

A loud knock suddenly sounded on their chamber door. Hector looked to Andromache and then to the door. After a few seconds he hurried to the door to answer it.

General Glaucus stood outside Hector and Andromache's chamber, his gold helmet under his arm. "Prince Hector, the Greeks are attacking. You must come at once!"

"They're attacking now?" gasped Hector. He dashed to where his armor stood on the stand, leaving the chamber door open, and began to dress into his battle attire.

"Yes," answered Glaucus, "the Greeks want this war ended and have made a feeble attempt to attack us at night."

Hector nodded, he then turned to Andromache who was watching him with wide eyes. "Will you help me with this, my love?"

Andromache jumped a little at Hector's words; she had been absorbed within her thoughts. She sat up off their bed and helped Hector with the several layers of oxhide, and then with his bronze breastplate.

As soon as Hector was equipped for battle, he left Andromache in their chamber – without hearing what she wished to tell him – and hurried out of the walls of Troy and fought once more with the Greeks.

* * *

The sun rose brighter the next morning than it had done in months, and its blissful rays of light shined down on the sea, making the sea appear as if it was sparkling. The Trojans that had been killed during the nights battle where laid on pyres and burned in front of their families, who grieved terribly. 

Hector stood outside the walls of Troy and paid respects to the men he had known and that had died during the night. He looked out to the bodies that were waiting for their funeral rituals and lowered his head in dismay.

After a few minutes, he looked up to the bodies once more and saw that a few of the bodies, near the edges of the wall, were of Greeks. Hector called to a captain of his army, Lysander, who was also looking at the dead bodies.

"Yes my Prince?" asked Lysander and walked to where Hector stood.

"When our men have finished gathering the fallen," said Hector, "send an emissary to the Greeks. They can collect their dead without fear of assault."

Lysander's eyes widened a little. "Do you think the Greeks would have done the same for us?"

"Of course not," said Hector stiffly. "That is why Troy is worth defending." He then turned away, mounted his horse and rode back to the palace.

As Hector walked through the palace, he saw Andromache sitting on the grass in one of the royal gardens. He slowly walked into the garden with palm trees sprouting from the dry soil, and a small waterfall trickling water into the pond beside Andromache.

Andromache raised her head as soon as she heard footsteps and smiled weakly when she saw Hector walk up to her. She watched as he sat down in front of her and took one of her hands in his own.

"It's so peaceful here," she said and smiled when she heard the faint sound of birds twittering close by.

Hector nodded in agreement.

"Do you remember that I wanted to tell you something yesterday?" asked Andromache.

"Yes," said Hector.

"Well, what I had planned to say," Andromache said, "before you were called away, was that I'm with child." She said it so smoothly and easily that she even amazed herself, she had dreaded telling Hector but the words flowed out of her mouth like silk.

Hector's eyes widened and he opened his mouth a little; he certainly hadn't expected to hear those words from her. He laughed happily, and loudly, and threw his arms around Andromache, then kissed her lips passionately.

"We're going to be parents!" He cried and kissed Andromache once more.

Andromache couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm going to be a father," said Hector, testing how the words felt as they dripped off his tongue. He then looked at Andromache, his eyes kind and gentle. "And you're going to be a mother!"

Looking out from her balcony that overlooked the royal garden Andromache and Hector sat in; Helen watched as they laughed together happily and envied them. She watched how they looked at one another, so much love in their eyes, and wished that Paris looked at her the same way. Helen knew Paris still loved her, and she couldn't help but continue to love him as much as she did when she left Sparta, but there was something missing in their love.

* * *

**A/N: **I skipped quite ahead in years with this chapter, so I hope it's not too confusing. Also I used the lines between Hector and Lysander from "Troy". And please keep reviewing :) 

**Queen Arwen – **I knew it wouldn't escape your notice that Hector was naked ;) I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, and thank you for the review :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm glad you're enjoying the quick updates, and I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, thanks! And thank you for the review :)

**Donna Lynn –** By Andromache reacting to Helen and Hector's reactions they way she does, I'm trying to convey that I think Andromache would feel jealous of Helen (because of her beauty) and would feel insecure and worried that Hector would stray away to Helen. Thank you for reviewing chapters 40&41 :)

**Kcrane – **Hector's remark to Andromache was awful, so take your time in forgiving him ;) Thank you for reviewing and reading each of the chapters, and I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter :)

**Kitera – **Helen was especially horrible in the last chapter, and is definitely worth hating at times. Thank you for reviewing the last chapter :)


	43. Chapter 43

As Andromache swelled during the last few months of her pregnancy, she thought that Helen grew more beautiful each day, and more appealing, or so she thought, to the eyes of Hector. Although Andromache never had proof that Hector felt anything more for Helen than friendship, other than her paranoid thoughts. She knew that Hector would never betray her, but she also knew that lust sometimes concurred over love.

It seemed to Andromache that Helen grieved more for her daughter, now that Andromache was with child. It was as if each day Helen saw Andromache and her swelling stomach, it reminded her of the child she had left. Andromache was torn between pitying and hating Helen at the same time.

* * *

Nine months swiftly passed for Hector and Andromache. They both waited eagerly for the birth of their first child, Hector had even begun counting the days until the physician had predicted the child would be born. Andromache had taken to waddling through the palace, and despite the lack of food she had managed to gain more weight than was common during pregnancies since the war had started. 

"You have a warrior in you," beamed Priam, when he saw Andromache enter the feast hall with Hector by her side. Priam had begun asking his children and friends to eat with him in the feast hall each night, and they all accepted.

Andromache succeeded in smiling politely, though she was doing the opposite inside. _No_, she thought determinedly, _my child will never be a warrior_. She had watched mothers weep while their sons burnt on the pyres, and was adamant to never be the mother of a warrior.

"The Gods have blessed us," said Hector and rubbed Andromache's stomach affectionately. He had taken to talking to his wife's stomach late into the night, speaking of anything and everything, and would laugh when Andromache told him to be quiet so she could sleep.

Hector spoke briefly to his father before walking with Andromache to their places in the hall. He gently helped his wife into her chair and only sat down in his own when he was certain she was comfortable.

The food was quickly brought out, and everyone noticed how little it was. Hector shoved his food onto Andromache's plate, wishing her to eat as much as possible for herself and their child.

"You must eat Hector!" insisted Andromache and began to return Hector's food to his own plate.

Hector shook his head distractedly, as he saw Paris and Helen enter the hall and that they were giggling madly. His eyes fixed on Paris's gleeful expression, and Hector clenched his knuckles together.

"What is it?" asked Andromache when she saw the sudden change in her husband's mood. She looked to what had caught Hector's attention and frowned, she knew what angered him.

It wasn't uncommon knowledge that there was resentment for Paris by Hector. Hector was visibly annoyed with Paris for bringing Helen here, and starting a war that threatened the entire existence of Troy.

Hector didn't reply to Andromache's words, he instead looked at those around him. He saw the people he knew laughing and talking happily with one another, behaving as if there wasn't a war outside Troy's walls. He hated having to fight each day; he despised the act of killing men more now than ever. Hector was proud to fight for his country, and always would be, but he wasn't proud to fight because his brother had stolen another man's wife.

Without saying anything, Hector rose from his chair quickly and stormed out of the room, attracting puzzled stares from those in the hall – including his father who looked up from talking to Hecuba.

"Hector!" called Priam and watched as Hector ignored him, and left the hall. Priam looked to Andromache for an explanation, but saw she was as confused as he.

Andromache slowly rose from her chair, she was beginning to feel tired and her back ached more than ever, and walked out of the room. Hector wasn't to be seen when she left the hall, and decided to return to their chamber as she presumed him to have gone there.

As Andromache walked through the hall by one of the royal gardens, the very one she and Hector had sat in when she had told him she was with child, she saw that her husband was there. She quickly walked to where he stood and gently brushed up beside him, following his gaze as he looked out across the city of Troy.

"_They_ act as if innocent men are not dying each day," whispered Hector, speaking of the people in the feast hall. "I fight each day, not knowing when this war will end."

"They do know what happens outside Troy's walls," Andromache said gently, "but they choose to ignore it because it hurts them, they don't want to see the truth … not even when it's before their eyes."

Hector nodded in agreement and tore his eyes away from his beloved city and to his wife. He placed a hand on Andromache's stomach and sighed heavily. "I fear what will happen to you and our child, especially if this war carries on much longer."

There was nothing that Andromache could say because she feared for her child and Hector also. Every morning when she watched as Hector left their chamber, she would be surrounded by enormous fear which wouldn't fade until he had returned to her. On the rare occasions Andromache would watch her husband fight, she would grip onto the throne she sat on to restrain herself from running and protecting him.

"You mean more to me than anything or anyone ever will," said Hector suddenly, and took Andromache by her hands. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I always will."

Andromache then clung onto Hector and pressed her head on his chest, even though he was still wearing his breastplate. She felt a tear drip from her eye and down onto the breastplate, she stared at it for a few moments and imagined her life without Hector. Andromache quickly pushed the thought away and looked up to her husband.

"Never leave me Hector," she said quietly. She then looked away from her husband and once again laid her head against his chest.

Hector rested his head on Andromache's as he wrapped his arms around her. He was silent for a few minutes, though it felt like longer for both him and his wife, and then kissed Andromache's head before speaking.

"I'll always be with you," he whispered softly, "always."

* * *

The sun rose on the morning Andromache was due to give birth, Hector awoke at the brake of dawn and looked more excited than ever – he looked like an eager child waiting for Christmas to arrive. He wouldn't fight on this day because he didn't wish to miss the birth of his first child. 

Hector begun stroking Andromache's arm gently, the way he did when he wanted her to wake. She slowly opened her eyes and groaned when she saw how early it was by looking at the sun.

"What?" groaned Andromache and closed her eyes once more.

"Our child will come today!" exclaimed Hector and smiled broadly.

Andromache smirked and patted her husband's hand lovingly. "It is the due date, but that does not mean our child will come on this day. He or she will come when they're ready, be patient."

A disgruntled expression crossed Hector's face and he rested on his back once more.

"Hector!" laughed Andromache and sat up to look at her husband. "Our child will come, perhaps today and perhaps not. Thais said that because this is my first child, it could take a few days longer than expected."

Thais was Andromache's midwife, and had been chosen almost six months ago. Andromache had chosen Thais not only because of her ability, but because she reminded her so much of her mother, the once Queen Sofia of Thebe. It wasn't in appearance that Andromache was reminded of her mother when she saw Thais; it was her mannerisms and warm smile.

When Andromache had first felt her child kick inside her, she had gasped and immediately called for Thais, as Hector was fighting before the walls of Troy. Thais had laughed when she saw the alarm on Andromache's face, and reassured her that it was normal and would happen often.

* * *

It wasn't until a few days after Hector and Andromache's first child was expected, that the latter woke in the middle of the night from severe pains shooting through her body. She rose from her bed and slowly paced through the chamber, and gripped onto objects close by her when the pain blasted through her. 

Hector was soon wakened by Andromache's quiet cry of pain and leapt from their bed and to her. "Is it the baby?"

Andromache nodded and clenched her teeth together to keep a cry of pain inside her. She then felt water trickle down her legs, she opened her mouth in shock and looked to Hector who looked even more surprised than she did.

Thais had instructed Hector on what to do if the child should come at any time, day or night. She had told him to help Andromache to their bed and then send a servant for her and any other female relatives that may wish to be present at the birth.

Following the orders Thais had given him, Hector slowly helped Andromache to their bed and made sure she was at ease before leaving the chamber for a few brief moments to send servants to collect Thais and the female relatives and friends Andromache had granted permission to witness the birth. He then returned to her side, after gathering a bowl of water and a thick cloth.

Andromache inhaled and exhaled steadily, while Hector lightly dabbed water across her sweating forehead. She massaged her stomach in smooth motions, although it did little to stifle her pains, while she waited for the midwife and relatives.

It wasn't long before Thais arrived in the chamber, closely followed by Hecuba, Polyxena, and to Andromache's amazement … Cassandra. Andromache had asked Cassandra to help with the birth and she had been unwilling at the time, but now she was here.

"Out!" shouted Hecuba to her son, and began to usher Hector out of the room.

Hector laughed at his mother's attempts to push him out of the room, and he had reached the door before he darted back and kissed Andromache and whispered '_I love you_' in her ear, before leaving the chamber and waiting outside of it.

When Hector left his chamber and softly closed the door behind him, he saw that Priam, Paris and Helen had gathered outside – all in their night robes. He smiled nervously at them all, even Paris, because nothing would ruin his mood on this day.

A few more servants gathered in Andromache's chamber, she noticed, to help with the birth. Andromache thought of her mother and wished she could be here now. She missed her mother dearly, especially at this moment when she wished for her more than ever.

"Are you comfortable Princess Andromache?" asked the servant girl who had taken Hector's job of cooling Andromache.

"Yes," replied Andromache. She felt another pain race through her and gritted her teeth. "No I'm not," she added with a light laugh.

Hecuba had taken her place by Andromache's side and was now holding onto her hand and stroking it softly. Polyxena and Cassandra were at the end of the bed and were ordering for more cloth and hot water to be brought. Xanthe, Andromache's handmaiden and dear friend, had now positioned herself on Andromache's other side and was lightly brushing the hair out of her eyes.

Thais looked up from the end of the bed after examining Andromache. "Princess Andromache, let's just start off with a very light push now … very light."

Andromache did as ordered and pushed lightly, while panting heavily.

"Very good," said Thais, "now push again, still lightly this time."

"Remember to breathe," added Hecuba. She felt the blood fade from her hand as Andromache clenched onto it while she pushed again.

Andromache threw her head back on the pillow, sweating pouring from her forehead. She released the severe grip on both her mother-in-law and friend's hands. She was breathing heavily from the effort and the pain hadn't even begun to subside, in fact it was getting worse with each passing minute.

It seemed as if days had passed by, though it was only a few hours, while Andromache pushed when instructed. On more than one occasion Andromache had screamed with pain, which sent shudders through the spine of her anxious husband who waited outside the chamber.

"She's all right," reassured Priam and nodded at his own words. He had waited outside his own chamber each time when Hecuba was giving birth to one of their children, and didn't miss the feeling of fear when he heard his wife scream out in pain.

Hector nodded, breathing heavily.

"Andromache is doing wonderfully," said Helen quietly. "You have no need to fear. I … I screamed much more with … Hermione."

Paris looked to Helen when he heard the name Hermione, he hadn't heard her speak it in years and saw the look of remorse that was steadily washing over her face. He reached out for her hand, which she took, and held it gently within his own.

In Hector and Andromache's chamber, Andromache was beginning to feel as if every drop of energy had left her body. She felt exhausted and threw her head back onto Xanthe's arm in frustration after pushing mightily.

"You're doing brilliantly Princess Andromache," beamed Thais and looked to Polyxena for more water and clean cloth. "Now this next time, I want you to push as hard as you can … harder than ever before!"

Andromache shook her head in protest. "I can't … I'm too tired." She closed her eyes and felt the tears beneath them with her eyelashes.

"You can Andromache," said Cassandra, which startled her sister-in-law. Cassandra went to Andromache's vacant side, after Xanthe had rushed out of the chamber for more water, and crouched down beside her and took her hand.

"Now, when I say push Princess Andromache," said Thais loudly, "I want you to push!"

A few seconds passed and another pain shot through Andromache's spine and through her whole body. She clung onto Cassandra, who remained by her side, and opened her eyes once more. She breathed out heavily and nodded to Thais.

"Push!" demanded Thais, as she knelt down at the end of the bed. She released a cry of joy and called for even more cloth and water as the first born child of Andromache and Hector came out into the world and breathed in its first breath.

A sharp cry erupted out into the night as Thais held the baby in her arms and quickly washed and prepared the child for its mother.

Andromache's eyes widened at the cry and she looked up for her child, holding her arms out for it. She saw Thais walk towards her, with a baby wrapped in a dark blue cloth. Thais handed the child to its mother, and cried happily, as did almost all of the women in the room.

"It's a boy Princess Andromache," said Thais and stepped back and looked at the Princess and her first born son.

Tears spilled from Andromache's eyes as she held her son in her arms. It felt almost unreal to be holding her son now, her son that she had carried in her womb for months. It felt even odder to know that a child was no longer growing within her, and that the child in question was looking at her now.

"I have a son," Andromache laughed happily, "Hector and I have a son!"

Hecuba, still at Andromache's side, was crying happily and blessing the Gods for their kindness. She looked to her first grandchild and smiled broadly.

"He is so beautiful," exclaimed Hecuba, "he looks just like his father."

Andromache nodded; her son was truly beautiful with his thick brown bundle of hair sprouting from his head. She looked down to her son and smiled through the tears of joy that continued to trickle from her.

Polyxena stepped out of the chamber for a few moments, to tell Hector the news and allow him into the room. She smiled at the delight on Hector's face when she told him that his child was waiting for him.

Hector slowly walked into the room, amazed that within minutes he had changed from not being a father, to actually being one. He walked over to his wife's side, after Cassandra quickly moved, and sat down beside Andromache and his son.

"You have a son," said Andromache, and turned slightly so Hector could clearly see their son.

"He's perfect!" cried Hector and held out his arms while Andromache passed their child to him.

Hector stood up with his son securely in his arms and couldn't help but grin widely, he felt so overjoyed that his son and wife were safe. He gently kissed the forehead of his son and grinned.

"He's so small!" said Hector, and gazed down at his son with so much love.

"Yes … it will take some time before he's able to ride horses with you," chuckled Hecuba. She couldn't describe the emotions she felt at seeing her son with his own son in his arms, she felt as if she could swell with all the happiness she felt.

"He's so beautiful," grinned Cassandra as she leaned over Hector's shoulder to see her new-born nephew. A few tears left the confines of her eyes.

Polyxena, who now stood by Cassandra, nodded in agreement. "He'll have all the girls chasing after him."

"Just like his father," said Hecuba proudly.

Andromache looked up to her son and smiled, she supposed she was biased but he was the most beautiful, handsome child she had ever, and would ever see.

* * *

**A/N: **The baby is Astyanax, I just didn't mention his name in this, but it will be mentioned etc in the next chapter. Thank you to all that review, and please keep doing so :) 

**Queen Arwen – **Daddy Hector is certainly sexy and cute! I'm really glad you think this is getting exciting and liked the last chapter, thank you and thank you for the review :)

**Donna Lynn – **I am straying more towards the Iliad, and I'm glad you like that :) There will be something between Achilles and Polyxena, but I'm not sure what chapter it will come into yet. Thank you for the review:)

**Ithil-valon – **Thank you for reviewing both chapters 41&42 :) I do paint quite a bleak picture, but there will be a few more happy times yet. I'm really happy that you enjoy my writing and that you're enjoying the story, thank you!

**Kitera – **Thank you, I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter! And thank you for the review :)

**Anna Jamisen – **Thank you, I'm glad you like this! Thank you for the review :)

**Laymisse – **I'm really glad that you like this story, thank you! I'll definitely keep writing too :) Thank you for the review!

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm sorry you were grounded, and thank you for reviewing:) I do write quickly, but usually I can write one chapter in an hour or two on good days so I usually write two chapters on the weekend, and then post them at different times during the week :) And I'm really glad you like my writing, thank you!


	44. Chapter 44

The distinct cry of her son awoke Princess Andromache from her light slumber and she stumbled out of the bed and to the bassinet that stood at the end of it. She reached into the bassinet for her son, Astyanax, and carefully scooped his body into her thin arms.

Andromache slowly walked out onto the balcony with Astyanax securely in her arms; she moved from side to side gently to soothe her son to sleep once more and watched the rise of the sun.

The sun rose high up into the sky and allowed mere mortals to bask in her beautiful and glorious sunlight. The rising of the sun signaled ten years since the war between Greece and Troy had begun, ten long years of war that had plagued the city and beaches of Troy.

Astyanax, now two years and three months old, outstretched his arm and grabbed onto his mothers long hair and began to chew on it. Andromache laughed at her son's behaviour, and gently prised the strands of hair from her son's grip.

"He has the firm grip of a warrior," said Hector proudly as he wrapped his arms around Andromache's slender waist. He had woken at the sound of his son crying out to the morning light.

"Hmm," mumbled Andromache, unwilling to discuss the future of her son when it seemed so bleak to her eyes. She tried to ignore the feelings she felt, but it was nearly impossible to ignore the vicious thought of her son dying in the war that had remained outside of Troy's gates for ten years.

"I'll take him now," said Hector and held his arms out for his son, "you should sleep. You've been woken by Astyanax every night for weeks."

"No I'm fine," said Andromache and shook her head, as if to dismiss the offer away. She balanced Astyanax on her hip, as he was ignoring her soothing motions she performed for him to sleep, and walked back into the chamber.

"Andromache, I can take him," insisted Hector and followed his wife back into their chamber. He watched as Andromache lay their son down on the bed and began to dress him in a day robe.

"No!" said Andromache sternly, and then laughed awkwardly. "We have a nurse to care for Astyanax if need be, I'll call for her if I need sleep."

Hector nodded and said no more on the subject. He knew full well that they had a nurse, but that she was rarely called.

Andromache preferred to care for Astyanax herself, and she wasn't entirely alone as Polyxena and Hecuba often offered to spend the day with him. The truth was that Andromache wished to spend as much time with her son as possible; she couldn't bear to be apart from him for too long as she feared for him constantly. She couldn't bear to be separated from her son because she was terrified by the thought of the Greeks suddenly concurring against the Trojans and stealing her darling child away from her.

* * *

With the distant cries of war echoing through the city of Troy, Andromache sat beneath a tree in one of the royal gardens with her son by her side. She sat him on the grass and smiled as she watched the expression on his face when he felt the grass tickle his toes. 

Astyanax mumbled loudly, and salvia dribbled down his mouth. He cried loudly when Andromache tried to wipe his wet chin.

"Hector would always hate to be cleaned," said a voice Andromache knew.

Andromache looked up and saw Cassandra standing in front of her; she was startled to see her sister-in-law because she hadn't even heard her footsteps.

Cassandra sat down in front of Andromache and gazed at Astyanax with a mixture of wonder and love. She was reminded of Hector as a small child when she saw her nephew pick at the grass in front of her, but as she watched him closely she saw that he had Andromache's eyes and nose.

"He looks even more beautiful than the day he was born," whispered Cassandra.

"Yes, he does." Said Andromache and looked at Astyanax also.

"Do you think he knows who I am?" asked Cassandra quietly and gently tickled Astyanax's feet. She had seen little of her dear nephew since he was born because she often felt weak and ill.

"Of course!" said Andromache. "And you're always more than welcome to see him, whenever you wish."

Cassandra raised her eyes to look at Andromache; a look exchanged between them … a look that expressed the torment they both felt. Cassandra suddenly rose to her feet and quickly said goodbye to Andromache and Astyanax before backing away and returning into the palace.

* * *

Later that evening King Priam, along with his relatives and dear friends, sat in the feast hall and dined once more. He greeted his family and friends happily and even held Astyanax in his arms and kissed his forehead before returning his grandson to Andromache. 

Hector had been held at the armory with some of his generals as they discussed a plan of attack against the Greeks.

Andromache took her place in the hall, with Astyanax sitting on her lap, and she was struck at how lonely she felt without Hector by her side. She attempted to feed her son some of the fruit that had been brought out, but he was reluctant to try any and instead began to squish the grapes in his clenched fist.

"Hector used to do that," said a familiar voice.

Andromache jumped slightly and turned to watch as Paris, the owner of the sweet voice, took Hector's place beside her. She rarely saw or spoke to Paris now, only speaking to him if necessary and appropriate.

"He looks so like Hector, doesn't he?" said Paris, and a distant gaze fell across his face as he looked at Astyanax.

"Yes," replied Andromache quietly.

"Don't hate me Andromache," said Paris suddenly, but he continued to stare at his nephew. He valued Andromache's opinion and behavior towards him almost more than he did Hector's, and couldn't bear to think that she felt such hatred for him.

"I don't hate you Paris," stuttered Andromache nervously, she was unaware of what else to say. She looked to those near her and saw that they were all eating and talking contently to one another, even Helen who was conversing with Polyxena.

Paris nodded sadly; he couldn't blame Andromache for hating him for all he had caused.

"Paris," Andromache said softly when she saw the look on his face, "I do not blame you because …," she then stopped and was silent for a few moments. "I've always thought that you fell in love with Helen because you were looking for a replacement for Oenone."

Hearing the name '_Oenone_', Paris sharply turned his head to look at Andromache. He felt a slight flutter in his heart when hearing the name he had restrained from speaking aloud for years, although the name had always remained in his mind.

Andromache didn't know if it was her place to speak so plainly to Paris, but she proceeded regardless. "You may indeed love Helen, but I _know_ you loved Oenone and perhaps you were looking for what you had lost."

Paris suddenly stood up from Hector's chair and left the hall after muttering a quick goodbye to Andromache. He ignored Helen's obvious and confused looks at him as he left.

Helen slowly rose from her chair gracefully and said goodbye to King Priam and Queen Hecuba, a fixed grin on her face. She then swiftly left the hall and after Paris.

Andromache watched as Helen went after Paris, and then it dawned on her. _He still loves her_, she thought, _Paris still loves Oenone_. Andromache had always assumed that Paris had somehow stopped loving Oenone and transferred his affections to Helen; she didn't think that he _still_ loved Oenone.

* * *

Hector did not return to his chamber until the dead of the night, when there was complete silence through the palace except for his quiet footsteps. He entered his chamber and saw Andromache asleep on their bed, for which he was glad because she had had trouble sleeping for weeks. 

A quiet mumble came from the bassinet, and Hector smiled fondly when he saw Astyanax wide away and wriggling about. Hector quickly removed his armor and changed into a dark blue robe before picking his son up and taking him into his arms.

"You were definitely blessed with your mothers beautiful eyes," whispered Hector, as not to wake his wife. He smiled when a large grin spread across Astyanax's face at being picked up.

Hector walked out to the balcony with Astyanax in his arms. He gently rocked from side to side, and pointed at different stars to his son.

Astyanax showed no interest in the stars and instead pointed down to the beaches of Troy which were barely visible from where he sat in his father's arms.

"I told your mother I loved her there," said Hector and looked at the beaches, a faraway expression on his face. He remembered the time when he professed his love to Andromache, and remembered when Troy's beaches were not tainted by the Greeks.

"Mama," mumbled Astyanax, his letters tumbling over one another.

"Yes," said Hector happily and kissed his son's dark brown hair. He then pointed over to the palace stables. "And there I gave her Hermione, do you remember Hermione?"

Astyanax nodded a little and outstretched his hand to point at the stables. He had been shown Hermione by his father a few months ago, and was taken there at every spare opportunity Hector had.

"Do you see the blue water there, Astyanax?" asked Hector and pointed to the distant sea.

"Water," repeated Astyanax slowly and pointed to the sea.

"I kissed your mother for the first time somewhere on that sea," said Hector and smiled.

"And there Astyanax," said Andromache, as she stepped out onto the balcony, and pointed to a royal garden that could partly be seen from where they all stood, "was where I told your father that I was going to have _you_!"

Hector laughed and turned to kiss his wife. Astyanax was wedged between them for a few moments, but then protested mightily and his parents sprung apart.

"I thought you were asleep," said Hector, a grin on his face.

"I was," replied Andromache, smirking a little, "but I was woken by the sound of your loud voice!"

Hector laughed and turned so Andromache could stand beside him. Astyanax, Andromache, and Hector looked up to the heavens above and to the twinkling stars that decorated them.

* * *

**A/N:** I don't know if I'll be able to get another chapter up this week as I'm really busy, but I'll definitely try to :) Thank you once again for the reviews, and please keep reviewing :) 

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you so much, I'm really thrilled that you enjoyed the last chapter. Daddy Hector is certainly hot! Thank you for the review :)

**Kcrane – **Thank you for the review, and I'm really glad you loved the last chapter! I'm sorry you had a sinus headache when you had this, but thank you for continuing to read anyway and I hope you're better now :)

**Idun03 – **I'm not sure if Helen will meet Hermione again in this, but thank you for bringing it up as I hadn't thought about it :) Thank you for the review, and I'm glad you liked the last chapter!

**Starrysky – **Thank you, I'm really glad you like the story! Thank you for the review too :) Helen and Paris are definitely characters that are easy to hate, and very selfish.

**Kitera – **I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, thank you :) There will be some Achilles and Polyxena, and I'm afraid what you think will happen to Astyanax will happen in this.

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm thrilled you thought the birth scene was realistic, that was one of the main things I was worried about, thank you! And I'm really happy that you like my story, thanks :) Thank you for the review!


	45. Chapter 45

Night slowly fell like mist over Troy, and the stars began to appear across the enormous blanket of sky. A gentle wind breezed through the wide windows in the hall of Priam, where he and his two sons, along with the Elders of Troy and select generals of the army, had gathered earlier that day.

The Trojans were eager for the war to end, they had been since the day it had started, but now things were becoming even more difficult for the Trojans. Gold was quickly running out, as well as food and armor for the soldiers.

Those gathered in Priam's hall knew that the war would have to end soon and to their advantage, and so proposed for Prince Paris and King Menelaus to duel one another the next day. Whoever won the fight would win Helen, and the Greek armies would leave the shores of Troy, regardless of whether or not King Menelaus won.

Paris sat in his chair and stared down at the marble floor, his eyes wide and frightened. He knew better than anyone that he lacked true ability on the battle field, but yet he was bound to fight as he had begun the war.

Noticing his brother's reluctance to fight, Hector spoke loudly to Paris in the hall. "Are you too cowardly to fight with King Menelaus even though you wronged him? You would soon learn what kind of fighter he is, like I have, if you fought him."

A gentle murmur flowed through the room, and many agreed with Hector. They all fixed their eyes on Prince Paris, eager to see how he reacted and if he would accept the duel between him and King Menelaus.

Paris rose from his chair and looked upon the faces of all those in the room, including his father and brother. His gaze lingered over Hector for a brief moment and then he turned to face the Elders of Troy.

"I will fight tomorrow," he said proudly. His breath quickened and he hastily sat down in his throne once more.

Priam lowered his head sadly, he did not want Paris to fight but saw no other way for the war to end. He knew Paris was not skilled in war, but perhaps the gods would protect him and end this war for them.

* * *

Hector was one of the last men to leave his father's hall, and he walked through the halls slowly. His heart thumped against his chest angrily, and he clutched a hand to it for a slight moment. He felt guilt for shaming his brother into fighting, guilt that raced through his body furiously. 

The truth was that Hector did not hate Paris, despite all that he had caused. Hector wasn't able to hate his brother, no matter how hard he tried. He hated the things Paris had caused, but _not _Paris himself. Even though Hector treated Paris in a way that suggested he hated him, he didn't … he merely tried to, but couldn't.

Hector entered his chamber and saw that Andromache was on their balcony, and that Astyanax was asleep. He walked out onto the balcony and leaned onto the walls of it, gripping onto it tightly.

"Polyxena has already told me that Paris will fight King Menelaus," said Andromache quietly, her tone was unreadable; "she heard the news from your mother."

Silence ensued Andromache's words, and she looked across to Hector. Her eyes scanned over his pale face and she simply stared at him for a few moments before clasping his face within her hands and glaring into his eyes miserably.

"Don't allow Paris to die because of this," she said sadly, '_this_' being the war. "You will never forgive yourself if he dies tomorrow Hector, why allow him to go through this now?"

Hector tore himself away from Andromache, breathing angrily. Andromache told him exactly what he was feeling, but he was determined to deny it.

"I hate what Paris and Helen have done," persisted Andromache, "but don't allow him to die. King Menelaus is a trained warrior, Paris is …,"

"Paris is a handsome boy who beds different women each night," spat Hector, "if he is to learn anything in this world, then he will learn it tomorrow!" He then stormed into their chamber.

Andromache remained on the balcony, and was silent for a moment but then chose to speak, not caring if she angered her husband. "If Paris dies, then it will be you who feels the most pain, I hope you can live with that!"

Hector spun around and marched to where Andromache stood. "He deserves to die; if I were not his brother then I would have done it the day he returned with another man's wife!"

Astyanax suddenly woke at the harsh words and began to wail loudly.

Andromache tore herself away from Hector and hurried to her darling son. She carefully picked him up into her arms and kissed his forehead before rocking him gently from side to side.

Hector watched Andromache and their son together, his eyes wide with fear. He looked upon them now and feared for their lives more than ever.

* * *

Paris awoke at dawn the next morning. He had barely slept through the blisteringly hot night; instead he had tossed and turned almost continuously. He rose from his bed and walked over to his balcony and looked at the scene that lay before his eyes. 

From Paris's balcony, he had a perfect view of the Greeks and their camps on the shores of Troy. Paris thought of Menelaus now and wondered if the King was as scared as he was.

This duel was the true test, the test that would show who was the better man, either Paris or Menelaus. This fight was a matter of honour, a chance for Menelaus to revenge the shame that had been placed upon him and his household.

"Let me help you with your armor," said Helen, as she walked bare-footed to Paris's side. Her voice held no emotion, nor did her face, but her clear eyes betrayed the fear she felt.

Paris hadn't even heard Helen rise from their bed, and turned to look at her beautiful face. A white robe flowed down her and it stopped only at her slender ankles. Helen's golden hair hung perfectly at her sides, and seemed to be even smoother than silk.

He was somewhat surprised that Helen offered to help him, especially considering they had been arguing for hours the previous night because she didn't want him to fight. Paris didn't wish to fight either, but he knew he must.

"Thank you," said Paris quietly, unsure of what else to say.

Helen closed her eyes in pain at the sound of her lover's voice. She loved Paris more than anything in the world, he was everything to her. After a few moments Helen opened her eyes once more and smiled weakly. She then helped the man she loved into his glittering royal armor.

* * *

Hundreds of Trojans now gathered on the walls of Troy. Many young women huddled together for support, no doubt mere conquests of Prince Paris. Old men looked upon the soldiers that had marched out of the walls of Troy, and they successfully contained the horror they felt within themselves. 

King Priam sat on his throne on the wall, with his dear relatives and friends surrounding him. To his right sat his wife, Queen Hecuba, and she was sobbing quietly into a small dark cloth, and to his left sat Princess Andromache with small Prince Astyanax sleeping in her arms.

Andromache looked over to Astyanax's nurse and beckoned her to her. She feared that the sound of war would wake her child and she didn't wish Astyanax to see the battle that would soon commence.

"Please take him to my chamber and tend to him there," Andromache said to the nurse. She had only brought Astyanax onto the walls at Hector's request, because he liked to feel his family close by, but she knew the fighting was not fit for children's eyes.

Helen sat beside Andromache, and was shaking terribly. She wore a dark purple robe and had covered her hair with a veil of a similar colour. The goddess-like woman was beginning to feel responsible for what she had caused, even more so when she saw Paris ride out onto the plain with Hector and the generals following him.

"If only death could have taken me in Sparta, grim death, on that day I followed Paris to Troy." Helen muttered, thinking she was speaking to only herself. "I forsook my husband, my kinsmen, and my child…,"

Andromache sharply turned her head when she heard the bitter words gush from Helen's perfect mouth. She looked at Helen and actually felt pity for her, but that quickly faded when she caught a glimpse of Hector on the plain from the corner of her eye.

* * *

The Trojan army had severely decreased over ten years of vigorous fighting, but they continued to stand proudly in front of their walls that were now scorched with fire marks, after the Greeks had attacked during the night through the many years. 

Hector steadied his uneasy horse and then turned to Paris who was near him. "You don't have to do this Paris." He then heard the Greeks draw closer and could see the Kings of the Aegean racing towards them on either horseback or on chariots.

Paris was surprised by his brother's words and sighed heavily. He shook his head at Hector's words, knowing that he had to fight. "I do have to fight, I started this and I must end it … with my life if need be."

Hector felt a swell of pride in his chest and nodded. He knew men who would sacrifice their honour in exchange for their lives. "You are a good man Paris … a good man."

The glittering chariots of the kings of the Aegean led the way across the plain; their armies marched heartily behind their kings, all eager for an escape from this war that had lasted too long already.

The mighty kings of the Aegean suddenly stopped, leaving a large gap between themselves and their armies, and the Trojan army. King Agamemnon, King Menelaus, and King Odysseus stepped off their chariots and walked up to Prince Hector and Prince Paris who had dismounted their horses.

Knowing the procedures of dueling, Hector and Odysseus walked next to one another. Odysseus placed a bronze helmet onto the plain, and Hector dropped two stones into it. They were casting lots for who would be the first man, out of Paris and Menelaus, to hurl their sphere at the opponent.

A few Trojans and Greeks closed their eyes briefly and prayed to the gods. They prayed for the war to end, a victorious end.

Hector bent over and shook the helmet and Paris's lot leapt out of it. He quietly breathed a sigh of relief and looked at his brother who looked nervous, but also relieved.

Paris was already fully prepared for battle, but he insisted on making sure his helmet, with horsehair flowing from the top of it, breastplate and greaves were securely in place on him. He turned to the young Trojan soldier who stood beside him, and the soldier carefully handed a spear.

Menelaus also secured his armor and then glared at Paris through his helmet. He could feel his heart race with apprehension and excitement, he was eager to have Helen returned to him and to seek revenge for the shame that had been placed upon him. He licked the sand, which had blown onto his face, from his lips and felt grim pleasure at seeing the frightened look on Paris's face.

Paris and Menelaus stepped away from the safety of their armies and began to walk closer to one another. They walked slowly, carefully choosing each step.

Then Paris suddenly hurled his spear at Menelaus, but the spear only hit the edge of Menelaus's round shield, which he had held in front of him when seeing the soaring weapon.

Menelaus then sneered and tightened his grip on the spear that had been handed to him by his brother, Agamemnon. He lunged forward and threw the spear with all his might at Paris, and the spear shot through the center of Paris's shield and into his breast plate.

Paris quickly pulled the spear from his breastplate and a few drips of blood came out with it. He gritted his teeth in pain and looked down to his right side where he had been hit; it was a small wound and would heal easily if given the chance.

Anger swept through Menelaus now, he withdrew his sword from his side and raced towards Paris. He then launched it down on Paris's helmet but the blade smashed and fell in pieces to the floor.

Without being visibly hurt, and only suffering from slight dizziness, Paris tried to withdraw his sword in time, but Menelaus dropped his shield and lunged at Paris. Menelaus succeeded in grabbing onto the horsehair, atop of Paris's helmet, he then pushed him down onto the floor and started to drag the Prince to the front line of the Greek armies.

The chin-strap holding Paris's helmet was beginning to strangle him, he fumbled with it and tried to release Menelaus's grip from the helmet but couldn't.

It was said that the goddess Aphrodite snapped the chin-strap that day, but the Trojans and Greeks only saw that the snap suddenly broke and Paris's head fall from the helmet and onto the floor safely.

Paris clambered to his feet, but Menelaus was yet again too quick for him. Menelaus snatched Paris's sword that had fallen to the ground, and placed it in his own hand. He swung it up into the air and down upon Paris's thigh, which only lightly slit it.

* * *

Upon the walls of Troy, Helen clasped a hand to her mouth and tried to stand but stumbled. She couldn't bear to see Paris hurt by a man like Menelaus, Paris wasn't even Menelaus's equal in size and skill and she couldn't see him die. 

Andromache, with tears in her eyes as she watched the duel, turned and helped Helen in her throne once more. She took the hand of Helen and held it within her own, knowing how she felt because she had felt it all before. There was nothing Andromache could say to help Helen; there was nothing to comfort a woman when she saw her lover fighting in war.

Then suddenly the Trojans and Greeks saw Paris flee from Menelaus. A gentle murmur of shock carried across the walls and through the armies, and many turned their attention to the walls of Troy and to King Priam, even though they could barely see him.

King Priam gripped onto the sides of his throne and his eyes grew wide, he then whispered, praying Paris would feel his words. "Fight him, son. Fight him!"

* * *

King Menelaus, panting for breath, watched as Paris crawled like a beast to the front line of the Trojan army. He dropped the sword to the ground. 

"Is this what you left me for Helen?" he yelled. He looked up to the walls of Troy and scanned them for Helen, his eyes then stopped on the thrones but he could barely see those on them, yet he felt the eyes of Helen on him.

Hector closed his eyes in pain; he couldn't bear to watch the scene that lay before him. He then opened his eyes when he heard the malice in Agamemnon's voice.

"Hear me now Trojans!" roared Agamemnon, and he rode to the side of his Menelaus on his chariot. "Victory goes to Menelaus! You must pay us the reparations of war and surrender Helen at once!"

A loud cry of agreement erupted from the Greeks and they banged their swords against their shields. The Trojans, however, did not return Helen or give the Greeks any war reparations, instead the war carried on.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry I've taken so long to update, but I've been really busy and will continue to for a few more days. I'll try to put another chapter up as soon as I can. I also used some things from both the "Iliad" and from "Troy" in this chapter. Thank you so much for all of the reviews! 

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you for the review! I'm glad you enjoyed the writing in the last chapter, thanks :) I have to admit that I don't want to kill Hector, but I have to even though it will be horrible :(

**Ithil-valon – **I'm really glad you enjoyed Hector spending time with his son! I'm also glad you felt sorry for Paris, because I feel sorry for him at times too. Thank you for the review :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **You're definitely not boring in your reviews, I appreciate and love all the reviews :) To be honest I don't know how I've managed to write fast, lol! Thank you for the review and I'm glad you liked the last chapter!

**Kitera – **Oenone will make another appearance later on in this, although I'm not sure which chapter as I've not written beyond this yet. Thank you for the review, and I'm really glad you liked the last chapter :)

**Miss-Andromache – **Andromache is definitely ahead of her time with how she acts as a mother and I'm glad that you like that. And I'm really glad that you like that I included Oenone, as I had doubts of how to bring her into this. Thank you for the review :)

**Lily – **Thank you, I'm really glad you loved the last chapter. Thank you for the review, and I hope you take care too :)

**Little Lady Eowyn – **Thank you for thinking that I've taken some of the guess work out of the "Iliad", and that you feel privileged to read this! I'm surprised at the amount of reviews I've had too! I've not heard of the "invisible man", is it good? Thank you so much for the reviews, and welcome to – I'm not sure when you'll see this as you last reviewed for chapter 8 and may not have read till chapter 45 yet, but thank you for the reviews :) And I'm really glad you like the story, thank you!


	46. Chapter 46

It was not only the Greeks and Trojans that suffered frequent losses and pain in the war between them, but also the neighboring cities and islands of Troy. Along with his faithful Myrmidons, the mighty Achilles had sacked dozens of cities and islands, including the great city of Lyrnessus.

Lyrnessus was a city to the east of Mount Ida, and to the south-west of Troy. It was an ally to Troy, and therefore hated by the Greeks. King Mynes ruled the city of Lyrnessus, and when it was sacked he met his end by the feared sword of Achilles.

The wife of King Mynes, Briseis, was forced to watch the death of her husband. She was threatened to be killed if she tried to escape, by Achilles' fellow Myrmidons. The golden-haired Briseis was taken as Achilles' prize and concubine, and as she left her beloved city that was now showered with death and blood, she saw the dead bodies of her three brothers.

Upon arriving at Troy, Briseis met Patroclus, son of Menoetius and brother-in-arms to Achilles. Despite her reluctance, she grew to like Patroclus. He was different from Achilles, he wasn't so severe in his temperament or appearance as Achilles certainly was to her.

Patroclus was moved by Briseis's grief, she had already suffered so much and yet she never shed a tear, instead she kept them all within her eyes and showed them only to him. He promised Briseis that he would arrange a marriage feast for her and Achilles when they returned to Phthia after the war, for he was certain to return to his home and that Achilles and Briseis would wed.

However, in the tenth year of the war, Briseis was taken from Achilles and given to Agamemnon. Agamemnon had lost his war prize Chryseis, daughter of Chryses who was a priest of Apollo, after returning her to her father. He sought comfort from another woman, and was struck by the fair beauty of Briseis.

"I will help myself to another man's prize," Agamemnon had chuckled evilly, once Chryseis had been sent on a ship to her father. He had only agreed to release Chryseis if a fresh prize was sent to _console_ him.

"You're a shameless schemer," Achilles spat, as he had sat in Agamemnon's tent with a selection of other kings, "you always take the lion's share, and use others to gather luxuries and wealth for yourself!"

Achilles then stormed out of Agamemnon's tent and returned to his own, where he sought relief from a cup of hot wine.

"Go to the tent of Achilles," Agamemnon ordered his heralds, once Achilles had left, "take the lady Briseis and bring her here. If Achilles refuses to part with her, inform him that I will come and force him to give her to me."

Two heralds slowly walked to the tent of Achilles, they wore frightened expressions and feared the possible rage of the god-like warrior. They were surprised to see Achilles sitting on the sand outside his tent, with a cup of wine clasped within his right hand.

"Do not fear me," said Achilles and sneered. He managed to stand on his feet and stepped closer to Agamemnon's heralds. "My quarrel is not with you, but with your king."

The son of Peleus then called to his dear friend Patroclus, who walked along the shores of the beach and was obviously absorbed within his own thoughts.

Patroclus quickly walked to Achilles, after being torn away from his horrid fears.

"Bring Briseis out here and hand her to these men," ordered Achilles. He then raised his hands up into the air. "I shall call upon these heralds to be my witnesses before the happy gods, before mankind, and before the brutal King Agamemnon himself, if the Greeks _ever_ need me again to save them from disaster in this war!"

Achilles then returned his hands to his sides, breathing angrily, and dropped his bottle of wine to the floor and marched into his tent.

After that day, Achilles refused to fight, and so did the loyal Myrmidons and Patroclus. As a result of this, the Greeks suffered heavy losses to their armies, and it allowed the Trojans to threaten the Greek ships, which were the only way to escape Troy if the need arose.

All of those things only added to Achilles' pleasure, he wanted things to worsen so Agamemnon would be forced to beg for him to return and fight.

* * *

Achilles now sat outside his hut with a goblet of wine in one hand, and with the other he began to scoop the sand into it and then allow it to fall through his fingers. He turned to look at Patroclus, who sat closer to the sea than he, and examined him for a few moments. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Achilles suddenly saw a wounded man being carried to a tent by Nester, the leader of the Pylians who fought with the Greeks against Troy. He sharply turned his head and thought that the wounded man was Machaon, a friend of his.

"Patroclus," Achilles called quietly.

"Yes?" asked Patroclus, and slowly turned his head to look at Achilles. When he saw the look of worry on his friend's face, he quickly rose to his feet and jogged to where Achilles sat.

"I think … I think I saw Machaon," whispered Achilles, as he became overwrought with guilt, "he was wounded. Will you go and see if it was his him?"

Patroclus nodded, he had barely known Machaon but had heard he had cured Menelaus after the king was wounded by an arrow. He quickly walked to Nestor's tent and realised that Achilles was correct in his assumptions, the wounded man was Machaon.

"He has suffered from a deadly wound," said Nestor quickly, after confirming that the man was Machaon, "but he'll live."

"I shall tell Achilles, thank you," said Patroclus and turned to leave.

"Machaon is fortunate … there are many who have fallen today that will not rise tomorrow," said Nestor bitterly. "Even King Odysseus and Agamemnon have been lightly wounded today … and all of this would not have happened if Achilles had been fighting."

"You can not blame Achilles for this!" exclaimed Patroclus, remaining loyal to his friend.

"You're right, I can't," said Nestor quietly, and he stepped a few steps backwards while men cleaned and stitched Machaon's wounds. He was thoughtful for a moment, before turning his head and staring into the eyes of Patroclus.

"I remember the wise words of your father, Patroclus," said Nestor, "the words he gave you when the war approached and you chose to fight. Do you?"

Patroclus took a moment of thought before nodding. He remembered his father advising him to give counsel and wisdom to Achilles during the war.

"You may have forgotten your father's words until now," Nestor said wisely, "but it is not too late for you to persuade Achilles to fight. If Achilles fights then the severe losses to our armies will lessen, and we will have hope once more."

"Achilles will not fight," said Patroclus, "King Agamemnon has angered him too much, and will he only fight if Agamemnon begs him to."

"I have heard King Agamemnon has offered Achilles numerous amounts of riches," said Nestor, "including the girl Briseis. Yet Achilles does not accept them, does he?"

"No," answered Patroclus. He knew how stubborn Achilles could be, but still he remained loyal to his dear friend.

Nestor was silent for a few moments while he thought. "If Achilles allowed _you_ to fight with the Myrmidons, and _if_ he gave you his own glorious armor to fight in … then the Trojans will believe you were him and flee to their city. It would give time for our forces to recuperate."

Patroclus slowly nodded as Nestor's words registered in his mind. He quickly left the tent and as he ran to Achilles' tent, he saw the Trojans were attacking the camps with even more force.

"Achilles!" cried Patroclus. He feared the loss of more Greeks, and felt he could have prevented it if he had given Achilles guidance and wisdom – like his father had instructed. "It was Machaon, but he will live."

"Then why do you look so grave?" asked Achilles.

"The Trojans are attacking the camps with even more force and they'll soon reach the ships," Patroclus said quickly. "If you allow me to fight in your armor, with the Myrmidons behind me, then the Trojans will flee to their walls."

Achilles knew that the ships were the only escape for the Greeks if the war worsened for them, and he begun to realise how many lives had been lost since he had ceased fighting. He was silent for a few moments and stared at Patroclus with wide eyes as he thought over the suggestion.

"You may fight," said Achilles, and he stood on his feet, "but you must only drive away the Trojans from the ships. Do not go in pursuit of the Trojans, because they will have an advantage to you once they reach their walls."

Patroclus nodded.

Achilles then gathered his armor and carefully handed it to Patroclus. "Remember what I have said Patroclus."

"I will," said Patroclus, and smiled slightly. He then quickly placed Achilles' armor on himself and called to the Myrmidons to follow him into battle.

* * *

The Trojans fought on against the Greeks, their spirits were high as they were drawing near to the Greek ships. Each swing of a sword against a Greek, by a Trojan, was bitter revenge, revenge for a loved one who had died on the vast, blood-stained plain. 

The great Hector, tamer of horses, led his army into battle. He was exhausted and still he fought, he only magically felt refreshed when the Trojans finally broke the Greek line of defense. Hector watched as hundreds of Greeks fled to the ships and fought to protect them.

Out of the corner of his war-trained eye, Hector caught a glimpse of a shining gold armor. He turned his head to see who it was and thought it to be Achilles, with his faithful Myrmidons racing behind.

The Trojans turned also at the sight of who they thought to be Achilles, many of them cried aloud with fright and turned to flee to their city.

"Fight on!" roared Hector, when he became aware at the sudden fear in the hearts of every Trojan warrior, including his. "Fight on for Troy!"

Hector fought the Greeks surrounding him and with each kill he made, he drew closer to who he thought was Achilles. He wanted to fight Achilles; he always had, and _now _was his chance.

* * *

Patroclus had never completely understood the effect Achilles had on warriors, but as he pretended to be him … he suddenly realised what it was. Achilles was hope to the Greeks, and death to the Trojans. Achilles had the power to help or kill you, and every Greek and Trojan on the plain knew that. 

Trojans were falling to the ground all around Patroclus, and instead of feeling pity for them, he felt relieved. He had seen too much suffering of Greeks to begin to feel pity for the Trojans.

Patroclus raced on and tore down all those in his path, except his fellow countrymen -who he encouraged by his splendid skill with a sword. He saw dozens of Trojans flee to their city, and instead of following Achilles' orders, he went in pursuit of them.

There were those that said that Patroclus was pushed down to the ground by the great God Apollo, but then there were those that said Patroclus merely stumbled and fell.

Patroclus did fall and his helmet immediately left his head, he tried to stand up but then saw, to his horror, that his breastplate was lose. He quickly tried to tighten it, but he then caught sight of Prince Hector running towards him.

* * *

Hector raced on towards the man he still assumed to be Achilles. He tightened his grip on the spear in his right hand, and he slowly raised his right arm. In one swift and skillful movement, the spear had left Hector's hand and shot into the chest of Patroclus. 

Patroclus stumbled and grabbed onto the spear, he tried to pull it out but couldn't. He swayed on his feet for a few moments before falling to the floor. Life quickly faded from Patroclus' life, and he closed his eyes as death finally took him.

It was only when Hector reached the body of Patroclus, that he saw that he had not killed Achilles, as he had thought. He knelt down by the body of Patroclus, his mouth open in shock as he tried to comprehend what had happened.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the long delay once again in releasing a chapter, I've been struggling on how to write this chapter in particular. Hector's death will **not be** in the next chapter. I'll put a warning at the beginning of the chapter that contains Hector's death, for those who don't wish to read it. Thank you for all of the reviews, and please keep reviewing :) 

**Queen Arwen – **Thank for the review, and I'm really glad that you still love this :) I'm afraid that I'm planning for Hector's death to be quite soon, but there will be quite a few more chapters after his death.

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm really glad you liked how I included some myth etc into the previous chapter, thank you! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter also, and thank you for the review :)

**Kitera – **Thank you for the review! I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, thanks :) It's also great that you felt sorry for Paris, because he had a hard time of it in the last chapter.

**TheAlmightyIshizu-Isis** – I'm not sure when you'll read this, as you last reviewed for chapter 1, but I wanted to say thank you for the review :) And I'm really glad you love this already :)

**Topez Grl – **Thank you, I'm really glad you like this story! I'm thrilled that you like my portrayal of Andromache, particularly since you've read so many books on Troy. Thank you for the review :)

**Donna Lynn – **Thank you for reviewing chapters 43-45 :) I understand the feeling of not wanting to review anything, so it's fine :) I'm really glad Hector's feelings are well understood, and that you're glad I'm steering towards the Iliad. Thank you once again!


	47. Chapter 47

The sun began to set across the sea, and the sky began to darken as night approached Troy. Stars were suddenly visible in the night sky, and Andromache looked at them from one of the many royal gardens.

Andromache had sought comfort from the soothing garden with its sweet smelling flowers and numerous fountains. She had allowed Astyanax's nurse to care for him while she spent time alone.

Thoughts twirled through Andromache's head and she could find no peace from them. She had seen Hector fighting that day, she had seen her husband kill a man he thought to be Achilles, and now she was more scared for his life than ever. Andromache knew Achilles would not rest until he had sought revenge, she already knew the feeling of suffering he caused when he killed her family in Thebe, and she wasn't ready to feel that kind of pain again.

Footsteps approached Andromache, and she quickly spun around. She exhaled heavily when she saw it was Hector. She stared at him, her eyes wide and clear, and she knew then that she would soon lose her husband.

Hector walked up to Andromache and embraced her. He said nothing to her, no usual greeting, instead he clung to her tightly, fearing to let go.

Andromache didn't need to hear words from her husband; she knew every thought that passed through his mind because she could see it all in his eyes. She pressed her lips against Hector's and was immediately warmed by him.

They stood there, clinging on to one another, for what seemed like hours. Neither one of them wished to separate.

"You didn't know it wasn't Achilles," whispered Andromache, as she rested her head on Hector's chest. She felt the pace of Hector's heart quicken and looked up at him.

Hector said nothing; he didn't know what to say. He had made a mistake that he was certain would cost him his life, and many others.

"You kill Greeks everyday," continued Andromache, "Patroclus was another Greek who invaded Troy's shores. If you did not kill him, then he would have continued taking Trojan lives."

Hector gently pulled away from Andromache, he knew she was trying to reassure him but he couldn't bear to listen to more words of comfort. Since he had entered the palace that night, all he had heard was words of reassurance for killing Patroclus. Even his father, King Priam, had expressed words of comfort – even though the King held an expression of fear while speaking them.

"Don't turn away from me Hector," said Andromache, her voice shaking slightly. "We can't allow this war to come between us."

"It isn't," said Hector, a note of confusion in his voice. He turned to look at Andromache and saw that she was shivering slightly.

"It is," said Andromache quietly. "I hardly ever see you Hector, neither does your son. Everyday I must answer to Astyanax when he asks where you are, and each day the fear rises in my voice because I fear for you!" She breathed in heavily; surprised the pitch of her voice had risen while she was speaking.

"What do you want me to say, Andromache?" Hector asked, his voice was quivering and low. He hated fighting when he should be with his wife and son, but he had no choice. He had to fight.

"I don't know," answered Andromache weakly. She felt weak after expressing what she had; she had kept those words inside her for so long that it was almost as if they had become a part of her.

"This is what war is like," said Hector, "the men are away fighting and the women and children are left behind. I can't change this war, I wish that I could but I can't!"

"Who do you fight for, Hector?" Andromache asked suddenly, she had regained her strength and her voice was as strong as ever.

Hector stared at Andromache with narrowed eyes; she had never asked him such a question. He had always presumed Andromache knew why and who he fought for. "I fight for Troy." He finally answered.

"And Astyanax and I … what about us?" said Andromache, and she began to step closer to Hector.

"I fight for you both also!" insisted Hector. "You know I fight for you and our son."

Andromache shook her head and placed a hand on Hector's cheek. Tears had now gathered in her eyes, but she didn't allow one to trickle down her face. "No you don't Hector, you don't fight for Astyanax and I … if you thought about us then you wouldn't be fighting at all."

"How can you say that?" demanded Hector.

Andromache's hand returned by her side and bowed her head. "I'm sorry Hector … I didn't mean it, I'm just tired." She then wrapped her arms around her husband and quietly cried against his robes.

* * *

Distant cries roused Achilles from his sleep; he had chosen to retire to his bed early with a slave girl that night, and moaned loudly at the noise. He rose from his bed and tied a skirt around his waist, leaving his chest bare, and stepped outside of his tent. 

The Greek camp was completely drowned in darkness, except for scattered torches and fires. Achilles turned to where the noise came from and saw his faithful myrmidons heading towards him. He saw that they carried something but at first he couldn't decipher what, until they had drawn closer.

Achilles dropped down onto his knees and felt the softness of the sand against his legs. He glared at the myrmidons and saw that they carried the body of Patroclus. He felt his throat constrict and tried to rise to his feet.

The myrmidons avoided Achilles' glaring eyes towards them, and only one of them, Eudorus, was brave enough to step forward.

"My lord," said Eudorus, and nervously watched as Achilles glared at Patroclus's body that now lay on the sand, "Patroclus … he … he is dead."

Achilles was silent and stared at the body of his friend. He walked towards the body of Patroclus and knelt down beside it.

"Prince Hector … he … he killed Patroclus," continued Eudorus.

Achilles closed his eyes, competing with the tears that wished to flow from him. Patroclus had been his friends for years; Patroclus was always the one to sooth his foul moods with words of wisdom and advise.

"I told him to only drive the Trojans away from our ships," whispered Achilles and he stared with wide eyes at the body of Patroclus. "I told him _not_ to go in pursuit of them!"

"I am sorry, my lord," said Eudorus sadly.

"You're sorry?" Achilles suddenly roared. He rose to his feet quickly and grabbed Eudorus's neck. "Why did you let him go after the Trojans, you knew I didn't want him to!"

Eudorus began to choke loudly and clawed at Achilles's wrists.

Achilles glared at Eudorus and knew it wasn't his fault. Achilles just wanted to blame someone now. He released his fingers from Eudorus's neck, and Eudorus fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

For a few moments Achilles stared at the body of Patroclus, and then he turned his attention to the walls of Troy. He imagined Hector within them, and his eyes began to burn with the desire of revenge.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm afraid Hector will die in the next chapter, and I'll put a warning at the beginning of it in case any of you don't wish to read it. Thank you for all of the reviews:) 

**Queen Arwen –** Thank you for the review! I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, thank you:)

**Donna Lynn – **I'm really glad you love this, and enjoyed the last chapter, thanks:) Thanks for the review too!

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm really glad that you enjoyed the battle in the last chapter; I was worried about it so thank you:) Thank you for the review!

**Topez Grl – **Thank you for the review:) I'm really glad you like my portrayal on Achilles and Patroclus, thank you!

**Kitera – **I'm really glad you loved the last chapter, thank you:) And thank you for the review!

**Gaby – **Thank you for the review:) I'm really glad you love the story and think it's great!


	48. Chapter 48

**Warning: Hector dies in this chapter, and I understand some of you may not wish to read this, hence the warning. I'm really sorry that I'm killing Hector, but it's something I need to do because I want to stick to the original story for many key events.**

**

* * *

**  
The image of Patroclus haunted Hector's sleep and he suddenly awoke from his light slumber. He was panting heavily and his heart pounded against his ribs ferociously. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness of his chamber and he turned to look at Andromache who he thought lay beside him in their bed, but she wasn't there.

Hector slowly looked around the room, searching for his wife, but he couldn't see her. He stepped out of his bed, pulled a thin cloth around his waist, and then walked out onto the balcony, but she wasn't there either.

Fear began to creep into Hector's heart; he quickly dressed in a thick robe and hurried out of the chamber. His first thought was that Andromache may have gone to see Astyanax, where he slept in his nurse's room. Hector knew Andromache had been unwilling to allow Astyanax to sleep anywhere away from her, but he had asked to spend the night alone with her.

Andromache was not to be found in Astyanax's room, or in the royal gardens Hector looked in, or the halls he walked through. He decided to go to the stables and search for her there, and when he saw no sign of her he asked a stable hand, who was nursing a wounded horse.

"Have you seen Princess Andromache?" Hector demanded with a calm, yet authoritive tone.

The stable hand nodded. "I have, my lord. Princess Andromache went to the walls on one of the horses."

"_The walls_?" Hector whispered to himself. He thanked the boy and then rode to the walls on his own horse.

Moonlight had trickled into the almost silent streets of Troy, and Hector soon reached the walls of Troy. He dismounted his horse and asked one of the many guards patrolling the wall and guarding the gates to watch over it while he went up onto the walls. As he began to climb the stairs to the wall, he saw that there were two horses, his wife's horse and another; his first thought was that she had brought Polyxena with her.

Hector quickly jogged up each of the steps leading to the walls of Troy and only stopped when he stood on them and was gazing across to his wife. He gasped inwardly as he looked at Andromache, for some reason it felt as if he were seeing her beauty for the first time, and walked near to her.

Andromache looked across the plain of Troy, gazing at the sea and longing to swim in it once again. Her hair billowed behind her, as did the long blue peplos at her ankles. She inhaled the fresh air heavily and then suddenly heard the footsteps of her husband. She knew them well, and could usually tell what mood he was in by the sound of his footsteps.

"I was worried about you," said Hector. "You should have told me, I would have come with you. And where's your escort?"

"There," said Andromache simply, after she had turned to face her husband, and she pointed to Xanthe who was standing a few feet behind her.

Hector turned to where Andromache pointed and smiled sheepishly. "I thought you had brought Polyxena."

"It crossed my mind," smirked Andromache. Even though she was growing older as each year passed, her spirit and smile never faded or grew old.

"Will you please leave us, Xanthe?" asked Hector asked. "There are guards at the gates who will wait with you."

Xanthe nodded and quickly walked down the steps from the wall.

"Why did you come here?" asked Hector and rested his palms on the wall and looked across the plains and to the Greek camps. He saw a pyre burning in the distance, its fire was no longer roaring and great, but it still burned. Hector quickly turned away, knowing the pyre must be for Patroclus.

Andromache felt the sudden change in Hector's mood and looked to the burning pyres. She had seen it to, although that wasn't why she had come. "I wanted to feel the air from up here; it's so breathtaking, almost fierce."

"You know that I have to fight tomorrow," said Hector quietly, after a few moments of silence between him and his wife.

"Of course I know," said Andromache, a note of confusion in her voice, "you have fought almost everyday."

"Yes, but tomorrow I may fight … Achilles," replied Hector. He was amazed at how easily he had spoken Achilles' name, many men didn't dare to speak it because of the fear they felt for the owner of that name.

"You don't need to fight him," whispered Andromache, "allow someone else to lead the army into battle."

"I am the commander of Troy's army," said Hector, almost sadly, "_I must fight_." He was silent for a few moments, while he chose his next words, and then spoke again. "I have to fight Achilles, I have never fought him and I need to now. Somehow our blades have never clashed, but because I … because of what _I_ did … they will."

"Achilles killed my seven brothers and father, he was also the cause of my mother's death," said Andromache, "and he did all that for almost nothing! No blazing revenge was at the end of his sword when he murdered my family. But if you fight Achilles then you will face the revenge, and you don't have to if you don't fight!"

"If I don't fight Andromache," said Hector, "then I will lose _all_ honour! It is better to be dead and to still have some honour, than to be alive with none!"

Andromache shook her head sadly. "It is better to be alive than to die for the sake of honour! For me, your loving wife, and for your son it is better to be alive! We need you Hector!"

Hector went silent, he wanted nothing more than to stay with his wife and son each day, but he knew that a man without honour was little better than a poor man on the streets. He would be faced with ridicule and shame wherever he went, as would Andromache and Astyanax, if he refused to fight. If he fought Achilles, then there was a chance he could keep his life _and _honour.

"I have to fight, Andromache," Hector finally said. "And I need you to know that I'm not doing this because your love means nothing to me. I love you more than anything and I always will. You and Astyanax will forever be in my heart and mind, never doubt that."

"I love you, Hector," said Andromache rested her head on Hector's chest. "I'll never love another like I love you."

* * *

Hector and Andromache had returned to their chamber that night, after standing together on the walls of Troy, but neither of them could sleep properly. Andromache kept drifting off into a light slumber, but she would suddenly wake when she felt Hector move beside him. She feared the time when he would move from their bed and prepare for battle, and then leave her. 

The time for Hector to leave finally dawned and the Prince rose from his bed and began to dress into his battle attire. He had done this almost everyday for years, and it never got easier to leave his wife and child behind while he fought, instead it got harder and more painful each time.

Andromache left their chamber briefly to collect Astyanax from his nurse's room. She scooped her darling boy into her arms and kissed him, before standing him onto his feet and walking with him to their chamber.

Astyanax was just beginning to walk and had delighted his father and mother with his first few steps only a few weeks prior to this. He was still somewhat unsteady on his feet, but there were more than enough willing relatives to help him.

As Andromache and Astyanax entered their chamber, Hector turned to them, fully attired except for the helmet that rested on a table beside him – he knew how much Astyanax feared him when he wore the helmet.

An almost silent gasp escaped Hector's mouth when he saw his beautiful wife and child. He ignored the sharp pain within his heart, and bent down with open arms to receive a hug from his son.

"How you have grown in just one night!" chuckled Hector, as he picked Astyanax up into the air and slowly turned around. He then embraced his son and kissed his forehead.

Andromache smiled as she watched her husband and child together; she had never seen a greater sight. She loved them both so much; they were a part of her and were deeply rooted within her heart.

Hector placed Astyanax onto the floor and handed him a few toy wooden horses before turning his attention to his wife. He stepped nearer to his wife, standing so close in front of her that he could feel warm breath against his cold cheeks.

"Remember that I love you, Andromache," Hector said quietly, and he stepped even closer to his wife. He kissed her soft lips, wrapping his arms around her slender waist and clinging onto her.

"You don't have to go," whispered Andromache, her face pale from not eating or sleeping. "You could command from the walls, where you would be safe!"

"I have to lead the men into battle," Hector said quietly.

Andromache bowed her head and clung onto the tears that had gathered in her eyes. A quivering gasp escaped her mouth and she closed her eyes in pain, feeling the sharp sting of the tears that wished to fall down her cheeks.

Hector gently lifted Andromache's head, and when she finally allowed him to, he saw that glistening tears were falling from her eyes. He felt as if a knife had been stabbed into his heart when he saw his wife crying, he had hardly ever seen his wife cry, she was as strong as an ox when it came to holding her emotions in.

Tears began to flood into Hector's eyes, and he quickly bent down to say goodbye to his son. Then looked back to his wife and kissed her ardently, this was their last kiss, the last times their living souls would meet and lock together, the last time…

"I shall come to the walls today," mumbled Andromache as she tried to gain control over her tears.

"No," said Hector quickly, "do not come today … stay with Astyanax, please." He looked into his wife's eyes, and he saw that she knew why he didn't want her to come.

Even though it was never said, both Hector and Andromache knew that this would be the last time they would see each other alive, this was their last goodbye. Neither one of them wished to believe it, but they still felt the truth of it within their hearts.

* * *

As Prince Hector left his chamber, leaving his world behind, Achilles slowly and carefully dressed into his glittering new armor, and made sure every part of it was secure on his god-like body. The armor had been newly wrought from the finest gold in the Aegean, and as if by magic, Achilles had become its owner – some even said it was wrought by the god of smiths, Hephaestus, but Achilles never spoke of where it had come from. 

Achilles had barely slept during the night; instead his mind had been consumed with the image of Patroclus' death. He had thought over every detail, every step and action Patroclus and Hector must have taken, because it kept the need for revenge alive.

Patroclus had been burnt on a high pyre the previous night, even the Kings Agamemnon, Menelaus, Odysseus, including others, had came to pay their respects to the fallen man. Not a tear had fallen from the cold eyes of Achilles, no emotion was shown, and instead a blank expression had hidden the true feelings of hate and sorrow he felt.

"The army is beginning to march," said Eudorus, as he silently stepped into Achilles's tent. "Do you come with us, my lord?"

Achilles nodded and turned to face his faithful myrmidon. "Tell the myrmidons and Odysseus that I fight alone today, I wish to find him Hector myself."

"I shall, my lord," said Eudorus. He bowed slightly and glanced at his friend sadly for a moment, before quickly leaving the tent.

Achilles picked up his sword and slowly ran a finger along it. He thought, with bitter delight, of the image of him forcing the blade through Hector's chest, or even through his princely neck.

Slowly, as he was enjoying his twisted thoughts, Achilles left his tent. His eyes squinted as they adjusted to the tremendously bright sunlight, and then placed the new helmet on his head.

A harsh wind suddenly passed Achilles, and it was as if he could feel Patroclus urging him to fight. He looked across to the pyre that had held Patroclus the previous night, and was only burning slightly now, and gazed at it for a few moments. He felt as if he had taken Patroclus's friendship for granted, and only now realised the true worth of his dear friend.

Achilles marched into line with his fellow countrymen, across the plain of Troy. He had made this journey countless times before, but he had never felt a fire blazing within him that was so eager for vengeance until now.

The Greek army only halted once they had reached the point they did everyday, the point at which they stopped and faced the Trojans before battle. Achilles sneered with violent disgust when he saw Hector sitting upon his horse; he had almost expected the Prince to hide away within his great walls.

* * *

The heart of Hector suddenly skipped a beat, he somehow felt as if the eyes of Achilles were on him, and he slowly searched the front line of the Greeks for Achilles, but couldn't see him. 

Hector adjusted his helmet so it was sitting perfectly on his head, and closed his eyes for a few moments as he remembered the painful goodbye with his family, who now watched from the great walls of Troy.

_Priam had watched as his son walked towards him on the walls of Troy, and beckoned his dear son closer. "You do not need to fight this day, my son."_

_Hector shook his head and knelt down before his father. "I must, dear father."_

_Hecuba suddenly succumbed to the pain she felt and allowed tears to fall down her pale face. She looked upon her son, her first born, and begged him to stay, but again Hector refused to._

"_No father has ever had a better son," said Priam proudly. He cupped Hector's face within his frail hands and kissed his son's forehead._

_Hector rose to his feet and embraced his mother, while tears continued to rush down her face. He inhaled the sweet scent of her, remembering the smell from when he was a young boy. _

_After a few moments, Hector turned to his sisters, Cassandra and Polyxena. Polyxena had succumbed to her grief also, but not Cassandra whose eyes were as dry as sand. Cassandra knew all that was to come, and the pain tore her apart inside, but she could not show it as she still prayed all she had seen would not come true._

"_If …," Hector began, but stopped as he couldn't bear to speak the words: _"If I die, care for Astyanax and Andromache, watch over them."

"_We'll care and watch over them both," said Cassandra, sensing Hector's thoughts. She smiled sadly and embraced her brother before he turned to Polyxena, and embraced her also._

_The time finally came for Hector, after goodbyes to more relatives and friends, to say goodbye to his brother, Paris. _

_Helen stood by Paris's side, she had barely aged a day since she had arrived on Troy's shores ten years ago. She stepped away from Paris, and walked across to her handmaiden, as she saw Paris wished to speak to Hector alone._

"_I'm sorry for everything I've done," said Paris quietly, as he stared into the eyes of his brother. "I deserve to die for everything I've caused, and if I could turn back the time and change everything then I would."_

"_I know you would," said Hector, and he believed Paris; he knew that his brother would have changed what had happened if he could. He inhaled deeply and then spoke again. "I've never hated you Paris, I hated what became of what you did, but never you."_

_Paris embraced his brother tightly, wishing to the gods that Hector would return to them all._

"_Make me proud, brother," said Hector as he released from their embrace._

_Hector then walked away, turn the steps and to the gates of Troy where he mounted his horse and rode out to the front line of his army._

_

* * *

_  
Cries of war echoed throughout the plain and the Greeks and Trojans suddenly charged at one another. Hector valiantly rode on into the hundreds of Greeks and clashed his sword against theirs.

Achilles had only seen Hector fighting a few times, but he had always been fighting another to watch the Prince carefully. Achilles began to fight alongside the Greeks and waited for the perfect opportunity for him to seek retribution for the death of Patroclus. The Trojans that met Achilles were killed without another thought; to him they were mere obstacles before he faced Hector.

Lysander, a captain of the Trojan army and a friend to Hector, suddenly came into the path of Achilles. He was a great warrior, but no match for Achilles who speared him in the back.

Not too far away from where Achilles and Lysander had briefly fought, stood Hector who had just killed another Greek. He had seen the death of his friend, and saw that it was Achilles who had killed him.

Without another thought, as Lysander fell to the ground, Hector charged towards Achilles. He couldn't bear to fight Greeks, while the Greek he wanted to fight stood only across the plain and waited for him.

Achilles saw Hector charge towards him and sneered grimly. "Today, _Prince Hector_, you shall feel my revenge!"

"Your words do not frighten me, Achilles," said Hector, his helmet catching the bright sunlight and sparkling. He then brought his spear up into the air and hurled it towards Achilles, but the spear missed its target and fell to the sand only inches away.

Achilles snarled and spat to the ground. He then removed his helmet and threw it to the ground – it was an insult in battle to toss your helmet away, it suggested that your opponent couldn't be respected.

The Greeks moral grew after the death of every Trojan, they charged on towards the Trojans until the Trojans began to flee to their walls for safety.

Hector took his attention off Achilles and saw his fellow Trojans escaping towards the walls, he felt a tug within his heart to join them and run, but then he looked back to Achilles and knew this must be ended.

"You do not flee then, like your pitiful men?" snarled Achilles, as he glanced at the Greeks charging after the Trojans.

"We shall fight, Achilles," said Hector, "and we shall swear to the gods, that whoever dies on this day will receive the proper funeral rituals."

"Don't talk to me of pacts!" spat Achilles. "There are no pacts between men and lions!" With that he hurled his spear at Hector.

Hector quickly dodged the spear hurled at him and narrowly missed its tip. He withdrew the sword from his side and charged towards Achilles.

As Hector charged towards Achilles, Achilles suddenly saw a weakness in the Prince's armor. Hector's throat was exposed as he charged towards Achilles, and Achilles drove his sword through the neck of Prince Hector.

Prince Hector, who had protected his rich city for years, fell onto the dusty, blood-stained plain. Death quickly began to take him, and he struggled for breath but was able to speak one last time. "My death will incur the god's wrath for you, that day when … Paris … when Paris … kills you … at the Scaean Gates!"

Cries of shock and grief erupted through Troy, those on the walls cried out at the sight of their fallen Prince, but there was one who felt the pain the most as she sat in the palace of Troy…

* * *

**A/N:** I sincerely apologise for not updating for so long, I've been really busy but I'll have a lot more time from now on. Thank you for all of the reviews, I greatly appreciate them :) 

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you for the review! I'm really glad that you liked the last chapter and how it was written, thank you :) And I'm sorry that I had to kill Hector :(

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, thank you! And thank you for the review :)

**Idun03 – **Thank you for the review and I'm really glad you like the mix of the events from the film and from the original story in this! What will become of Andromache etc. will be revealed in the coming chapters :)

**Miss-Andromache – **Thank you for the review and I'm really happy that you think this is brilliant:) I'm really glad you like Andromache's strong character also, and I'm sorry that I killed Hector :(

**Topez Grl – **Thank you for the review and I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter:) Andromache and Astyanax's fate will be revealed in the coming chapters, and I'm sorry that Hector died in this chapter :(

**Daleeze – **I'm really glad that you like this story, my writing and the characterization of the characters, thank you :) Thank you for the review and updates will probably be more often now.

**Anna Jamisen – **I'm really sorry, I completely understand that you want a happy ending, but I'm afraid there will be no happy ending in this, I'm sorry :( Thank you for the review!

**Kitera – **Thank you for the review :) And I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, thank you! I'm sorry that I killed Hector :( , but his death will be avenged.

**Lily – **I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, especially the scene between Andromache and Hector, thank you :) And thank you for the review!

**Myzz princess – **Hector and Andromache are my favourite couple too :) I'm really sorry that I killed Hector, but it was something I needed to do. Thank you for the review, and I'm really happy that you love this story, thank you :)


	49. Chapter 49

A deathly silence swept through the city of Troy, the Trojans on the walls stared down to their fallen Prince Hector with wide eyes and open mouths. Their last hope of winning the war with Greece had suddenly gone; it had vanished to the underworld. The still silence lasted only for a few moments before an eruption of wailing broke out from the walls and flooded through the city.

While word of Hector's death passed through Troy and through the Greek camps and on the plain, there was one who was still unaware of his death.

Andromache sat in her chamber, working at her loom to keep her mind occupied and away from the thought of her husband fighting. She paused in her work, of adding a flowered border to a dark red robe, and turned to look at her son. A smile spread across Andromache's face as she watched her son sleeping peacefully, but then a loud cry caught her ears and she suddenly dropped her shuttle to the ground.

She felt the life of her husband slip away from within her; she could almost see her husband, within her mind, as he lay dead on the battlefield. Andromache slowly sunk down to the floor, her mouth open slightly in shock, and her eyes gradually filling with tears.

Another high pitched cry echoed within Troy, it reached Andromache's ears and she knew it was Hecuba, even from where she was.

The threads of Andromache's life were beginning to tear, one by one, and she was unable to stop it, she felt as if her life was slowly, and painfully, ending. She stared off to where Hector's armor would stand at the end of each day and rose to her feet.

The door to Andromache's chamber slowly opened and Xanthe entered. Her face was pale and tears rushed down her aging face. She saw Andromache and suddenly froze, not knowing how to tell her dear friend that the Prince was dead.

"I know," whispered Andromache, ignoring the sad glances from Xanthe. "I know…"

Xanthe stepped closer to the Princess and tried to comfort her, but Andromache forcefully pushed her away.

"Watch over Astyanax," said Andromache sternly, tears still gathering in her eyes but she was adamant not to release them. She then fled from the chamber, and to the stables were she mounted an already prepared horse, and rode to the walls of Troy.

* * *

Appearing untouched by the death of Hector, Achilles looked down to the Prince he had killed. He had never killed a man with such rage inside him, he had never felt the burning desire for revenge, and as he looked at the result of such vengeance … he still remained unmoved by it. 

The previous night Achilles had asked Eudorus to bring him his chariot on the battlefield, only once he had slain Hector. Achilles intended to take Hector's body to the Greek camp, and as he needed his chariot for this task, he asked Eudorus to bring it to him.

Eudorus's face was grave as he ordered for the horses pulling the chariot to slow down, when they neared Achilles and Hector's body. His mouth opened a little as he saw Prince Hector lying dead on the plain, it was such an odd sight, which he never grew used to, to see a man alive and then to see him dead so suddenly.

Achilles gave no word of greeting to his friend; instead he walked towards his chariot and picked up a coil of rope from it. He looked to Hector for a few seconds, an almost sorrowful gaze covered his face, but that was soon replaced with a cold and unfeeling mask.

"You cannot do this, Achilles!" exclaimed Eudorus, as he watched Achilles tie the robe around Hector's ankles, and then tie the other end of the robe to the end of the chariot. "I thought you were jesting when you expressed a wish to bring Hector to the camp." Achilles said nothing in reply as he made sure the rope was secure at the end of the chariot, and so Eudorus ventured to speak on. "Hector must return to Troy, the Trojans will fight for him and our armies need to rest!"

"Let the Trojans fight then!" spat Achilles, his eyes glaring into those of Eudorus.

Eudorus gave no reply except for a slight nod and stepped off the chariot and onto the plain. He was unwilling to rekindle Achilles's temper, and so looked on as Achilles stepped onto the chariot and rode away, with Prince Hector being dragged in the dust and sand behind it.

* * *

Andromache hurried up the stone steps to the walls of Troy; she ignored the glances of shock and pity towards her, and pushed past all those in her path. Her soft sandals then stepped onto the wall and she suddenly halted as she saw a sight that would forever torment and haunt her dreams. 

All those on the wall could see the sight that Princess Andromache did; they all witnessed their great prince being dragged behind the chariot of Achilles. A cloud of dust rose around Hector as he was dragged, and his once brown and untamed hair was now filled with blood and sand. It was a sight no Trojan would ever forget, seeing their prince so degraded and dishonoured.

With tears racing down her pale and wrinkled face, Hecuba rose from her chair and hurried to the edge of the wall. She leaned over it, outstretching one of her hands, in futile attempts, to reach her dead son.

"My son!" cried Hecuba, not caring if all the people of Troy saw that she had lost her Queenly composure. "My first-born, how can I live without you now?" She swayed a little and her handmaidens immediately gathered around her and took her to palace.

Andromache watched as Hecuba was escorted away and saw that Cassandra followed her, she had never seen the Queen in such a state of grief, and it made Hector's death even more real.

Paris's eyes were glued onto the plain, he appeared to have not noticed his wailing mother, or that his sister-in-law had come to the walls. His heart hammered against his ribs as he thought of the last words his brother had spoken, the words which were whispered across the plain and in Troy.

"Why does no one do something?" said Andromache quietly, as she continued to watch her husband being dragged away from her. She looked across to Priam, whose face was stained with thick tears, and she knelt down before him. "Why don't you help him? Hector is your son, we may still be able to help him … we need to bring him back!"

Paris was ripped away from his own thoughts at the sound of Andromache's voice. He sharply turned his head to where she knelt before his father, pleading the king to rescue Hector.

"He's gone, Andromache, Hector's gone," Paris said hoarsely, while he helped Andromache to her feet. He saw her face, the tears mounting in her eyes, and wished to the gods that he could take her pain away, that his brother would be restored to them.

"Get away from me!" shrieked Andromache. She pushed away from Paris, unable to be near the man who had brought war to Troy.

Helen walked closer to Paris and rested a hand on his arm, she then whispered to him: "Leave her, Paris. She needs time to grieve." She then removed her hand from Paris and drifted away to comfort Polyxena, knowing Paris would care for Andromache.

Tears finally escaped from Andromache's eyes as she once again looked out to the body of her husband. She looked to those around her, all within their own world of grief, and raced down the steps from the walls of Troy and to the gates.

Paris hurried after Andromache, silently battling with the guilt that had erupted within him by bringing war to Troy.

Andromache demanded for the gates to be opened once she had reached them, but the guards were unwilling until they saw the anger and grief across their Princess's face. She went to the horse she had ridden to the walls of Troy, and was about to mount it before she heard Paris's voice.

"Close the gates!" ordered Paris, and the gates were slowly closed. He knew guards would follow Andromache to the Greek camp, but he wouldn't risk her safety after already losing so much.

Paris slowly walked over to Andromache and she turned to him and embraced him, clinging onto him tightly in case she fell as she felt faint.

"I need to bring him home," cried Andromache as she tried to gain control of her grief once more, "his bath is run … you know how he enjoys them after battle. I need to bring him home, Paris, I need to…"

Andromache then suddenly fainted on Paris's arm, the grief she had battled had finally won over her and she was powerless to stop it.

With the help of the guards at the gate, Paris placed Andromache, still unconscious, on the horse she had ridden, and rode with her to the palace.

* * *

Upon returning to the Greek camp, where all stopped to watch as Hector was dragged behind the chariot of their fearless warrior, Achilles stopped outside his own tent. He untied the robes that bound the prince to his chariot, and then dragged Hector to the side of his tent. 

Soldiers, with eyes hungry for revenge of their own friends and family, stepped closer to Hector with their knives raised. Each of them desired to stab the prince who had taken someone away from them; they wished to attack the man only when he was dead because they feared him when he was alive.

Achilles ignored the soldiers, not caring who harmed the body of Hector, and stepped into his tent with a bottle of watered wine.

King Odysseus, as well as many other kings, had now gathered to see the fallen prince. He saw what the soldiers were about to do and stepped in front of the body of Hector, his voice and face equally stern and angered. "Step back, men! No one is to harm or touch the body of Hector! He was our enemy, but he is dead now and cannot harm us … do not anger the gods by disgracing his body!"

The soldiers, undoubtedly angry with Odysseus, wisely stepped away and returned to their own camps, leaving the body of Hector untouched by them.

"What a glorious day," sneered Agamemnon as he arrived beside Odysseus. He withdrew his own sword, a mad and evil glint growing in his eyes as the prospect of defeating Troy drew ever closer.

"Don't, Agamemnon!" said Menelaus sternly as he too arrived to see the body of Prince Hector. He had seen the prince fall and the grief of the Trojans, and for the first time, since he had arrived on the shores of Troy, he felt regret at bringing war to a nation, when it was only a person of that nation who had caused him pain.

"We will anger the gods if we are seen to be shaming Hector's body," continued Menelaus.

The kings and soldiers gradually left the area of Achilles's tent and returned to their own tents. They did so silently, all too absorbed in their own thoughts of Hector's death and the war to speak.

It was not until nightfall that Achilles finally emerged from his tent, a fresh bottle of wine clenched within his hand. He was panting quietly and stared down at the uncovered body of Hector.

In his mind, Achilles kept replaying the dream he had had only moments before suddenly waking. He had dreamt Patroclus had come to him and asked for their bones, his and Achilles's, to be mixed together in a golden urn forever more.

"_Your fate has already been decreed by the gods," Patroclus had said to Achilles in the dream, "you will die in battle beneath the great walls of Troy."_

"_Let our bones remain together," continued Patroclus, "let us remain together, just like we grew together in the house of your father."_

The dream Achilles had dreamt made the death of Patroclus once again fresh in his heart and he stormed off into the main Greek camp, searching for ravenous dogs that would eat the flesh of Hector. But each dog refused to step near the body of Hector; instead they all cowered – as if being pushed away from the gods themselves – and whined to leave.

Wishing to revenge the death of Patroclus as much as he could, even though Hector was dead, Achilles once again tied Hector to the end of his chariot. He raced around the grave of Patroclus, the area he had been burned and where his bones lay before they were to be placed into a golden urn.

Hector's skin did not rip or bruise as it was dragged around the grave of Patroclus; it amazingly remained fresh and clean. Many of the soldiers said; while they witnessed the mad Achilles continue to drag the prince around the grave of Patroclus, that the gods were protecting Hector's body.

* * *

The palace of Troy was in chaos as precious items were gathered and loaded onto a wagon, destined for the Greek camp. Priam, though stricken with grief, had begun gathering items that now seemed worthless, only to have the body of his son returned to him. 

Priam ignored all protests from his wife, that he should allow the guards to retrieve Hector's body instead of going himself. He could not rest while the horrific image of Hector's body, being disgraced by Achilles, was so ripe in his mind.

Paris had sat by Andromache all afternoon while she slept, she still hadn't woken since she had fainted earlier that day, and he only left her to see how his mother and father were. He had pushed his own grief aside while he sat with Andromache because he was scared to face the truth, that his brother was dead.

It was not until Paris found his father stepping onto the wagon loaded with the gifts of ransom for Hector's body, that he finally yielded to the grief and allowed tears to slip into his eyes.

"Father!" shouted Paris as he ran closer to his father. "What are you doing? You can't go near the Greek camp; they'll kill you without another thought!"

"I am going, my mind is made up," said Priam proudly. His eyes then caught sight of Paris and he gritted his teeth angrily, disgusted to see the son who had caused such pain for Troy by stealing another man's wife. "I wish that you had been killed instead of Hector! Death has taken my dear son, and now I am left with you! You're a disgrace to your country, a disgrace to _me_!"

Paris was silent as he looked upon the face of his father; he was shocked by his father's words, yet knew them to be true. He had been a disgrace to his country and father, but he had never thought his father could say that he wished him to be dead instead of Hector.

"How can you think of going to the Greek camp?" cried Hecuba, as she clung to a small blue robe which Hector as worn as a child. "If Achilles sees you then he'll show no mercy, he'll kill you and I'll be left alone, with no Hector and no you!"

Priam looked to his wife and gently shook his head, he said no words to comfort her or ease her nerves, and instead he called to the servant who would accompany him on the wagon. "Let us go on to the Greek camp!"

The servant obeyed his king's words and the wagon, pulled by two mules, began its journey to Achilles…

* * *

**A/n:** Just in case anyone is interested as to why I wrote about the soldiers wishing to stab Hector's body, in "The Iliad" the Greek soldiers did stab Hector's body on the plain, although I couldn't bear to write that so I wrote that the soldiers wished to and that Odysseus stepped in. Thank you for all of the reviews, I greatly appreciate them :) 

**Queen Arwen – **I'm so sorry that you happened to read this after getting a hug from a hot guy, I'm so sorry, but congrats on the hug :) Thank you for the review and I really appreciate that you read it, even though it saddened you, thanks!

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **Pitiful Paris will kill Achilles's, just like in the myth, it won't be for a few chapters yet though, I think. Thank you for the review :) And thank you for reading the last chapter even though Hector died in it.

**Gaby – **I'm really glad you thought the last chapter was well written and that it was good, even though Hector died. And thank you for reading it, and thank you for the review :)

**Kitera – **Thank you for the review and for reading the last chapter! I'm really glad that you liked the imaginary I created, thank you :) And I'm sorry that Hector died.

**meitsiwong36 – **You have a right to review whenever you want, and I'm really glad you did review, thank you :) Andromache won't be marring Helenus, who was also Hector's brother in "The Iliad", or any other man. I'm currently torn between the fate of Astyanax in this and I really liked the suggestion of bringing Alexander into this, so I'll consider both things. I'm certainly not annoyed with the review, quite the contrary, and I know it wasn't a flame, so thank you!


	50. Chapter 50

There was no escape from Hector's death for Andromache while she slept on the day of his death. Her dreams were filled with times she had shared with Hector, memories she held dear to her heart. And as she slept, tears began to trickle down her cold and pale face.

It was not until nightfall had washed over the sky that Andromache finally awoke. Her eyes stung for a few seconds while they adjusted to the sudden darkness, and once they had, she rose from her bed. She walked over to the table in the room and poured some water into a cup, the cup Hector would always use.

As Andromache slowly sipped from the cup, she looked around the room she had known for so long and that now seemed cold to her. She felt as if Hector's presence had already left the room, his warm and reassuring spirit had vanished and now the chamber was left cold and dismal.

Andromache's eyes wandered over to the chamber door and she jumped slightly with shock when she saw Cassandra sitting in a chair beside it. She placed the cup onto the table, and was about to open her mouth to speak when she suddenly caught sight of Cassandra's eyes.

The usual calmness contained within Cassandra's eyes had disappeared; instead her eyes were like dark pits of despair. Her face looked whiter than a sheet and she was shaking violently.

Almost as if the gods had pushed the thought into her head, Andromache suddenly remembered her first wedding anniversary with Hector, years ago, when Cassandra had fainted and acted just like she had on the day of Paris's birth.

"_Death to Troy_," whispered Andromache, repeating the words that echoed in her mind. She remembered those words so clearly; the words Hector said Cassandra had shouted through the palace while Paris was being born.

Andromache glared into Cassandra's eyes and something suddenly dawned upon her. She stepped closer to Cassandra, a shocked expression washing over her face. "You _knew_ … you knew this would happen." She paused for a moment, suffering from disbelief. "You knew that Helen would come to Troy, that war would come here, and that Hector … would _die_."

"I couldn't prevent it," stuttered Cassandra, she struggled to her feet and quickly walked to where Andromache stood. Tears leaked into her eyes while she watched the remaining colour leave Andromache's cheeks. "The gods control us all; they have mapped out our entire lives. We are toys to them, I could do nothing!"

Anger and shock swam into Andromache's eyes, her heart began to beat furiously and she clasped onto a chair to steady herself. She lowered her head, not able to look into the eyes of a person who could have prevented so much pain and suffering, who could have prevented her husband's death.

"You were his_ sister_," said Andromache, her voice quivering slightly, "you were Hector's sister and yet you allowed him to fight day after day, knowing his fate!" She sharply turned her head to look at Cassandra, hatred seeping from her eyes.

Tears began to fall from Cassandra's eyes. She could feel what Andromache felt, she could feel the agony her sister-in-law felt, the now constant throbbing of pain within her. "I'm so sorry, Andromache._ I_ … I hoped that I was wrong, that what the gods had shown me was wrong!"

"_When_ are the gods wrong?" whispered Andromache, anger oozing from each word she spoke.

Cassandra shook her head desperately and reached out to touch Andromache's hand that clung onto the chair. "The gods play with our minds, Andromache, you do not know how often they come to me in my dreams, how often they whisper to me!"

"When are the gods wrong, Cassandra?" screamed Andromache, and stepped away from her sister-in-law. She had never felt such anger flow within her, but Andromache knew that it was not only anger at Cassandra she felt; it was anger at herself as well.

Cassandra could say nothing in reply; she knew there were no words that could turn back time and erase all that had passed. In the depths of her heart she had known the gods were right, they were always right, but she had dared to hope they may be wrong.

Guilt, for not persuading Hector to fight, consumed Andromache as she walked closer to Cassandra. She thought she could have prevented Hector's death, had she known what Cassandra knew, but things are never that simple.

"Why didn't you tell us what would happen?" asked Andromache. She quickly grew irritated with Cassandra's crying and grabbed onto her arms. "This war could have been prevented, if only you had told us what would happen!"

Cassandra pulled herself away from Andromache's grip, her eyes suddenly blazing with anger. "Would any of you have listened to me? Even my own father thinks I'm mad, why wouldn't you or anyone else?" She stepped closer to Andromache and her voice became a low and sharp whisper. "For years I've been scorned for my visions, disbelieved and thought mad! I tried to tell my father what would happen to Troy, I told him when Paris was born but he didn't dare to believe me! I even told my mother, that day when I fainted on your anniversary, but she wouldn't listen!"

Andromache's mouth opened slightly, she knew, in the depths of her soul, that no one would have believed Cassandra even if she had told them their fates – it was Cassandra's destiny to forever have her visions disbelieved.

The door to the chamber suddenly opened, and Paris stepped into the room with Astyanax in his arms. At first, Paris didn't see either Cassandra or Andromache, but Astyanax saw his mother immediately and called out to her.

"Astyanax," greeted Andromache, and she immediately forced her voice to be cheerful and pulled a mask of composure over her face. She walked over to where Paris stood holding Astyanax and reached out for her son.

Paris carefully handed Astyanax to Andromache, and as he did he thought he saw a tear rush down her face, but when he looked again it had disappeared. He allowed his eyes to wander around the chamber and, like his sister-in-law, felt the sudden disappearance of Hector's spirit.

Cassandra hid her tears and inhaled deeply before moving away towards the door. She had only come to see how Andromache was, and because she felt guilt for allowing Hector to fight when she knew he would die.

"I must see my mother," said Cassandra, her voice was quiet, yet controlled. Like Andromache, she had the ability to hide her emotions if needed.

Andromache only nodded; she could say no more to Cassandra. She knew that if Hector had been told he would meet his end on the plain that day, then he would still have gone and fought.

"I'm sorry, Andromache," Cassandra said quietly before she left the chamber.

Paris watched as his sister left and then turned his attention to Andromache. Aside from Hector and Xanthe, he knew Andromache better than anyone in the palace. He couldn't read her mood by looking into her eyes as Hector had been able to, but he knew she could conceal her emotions better than anyone.

"If there's anything you wish me to do, Andromache," said Paris, his voice unsteady as he was unsure of what to say, "then you need only to ask. Helen and I could care for Astyanax if you wish him to be around family instead of his nurse."

Andromache tightened her grip on Astyanax; almost afraid someone would come into the room and take her precious son away. She then turned to Paris, her eyes narrowed in anger. "You've already done enough! If it wasn't for you then Hector would still be alive!" And then she went silent, shocked at her own words. She realised she was blaming everyone else, blaming those who were trying to help her, except Achilles because he wasn't there for her to blame.

"I hate myself for what I've done, but I can't take back time and change it," said Paris quietly. Once again, the last words of his brother began to echo in his mind, as he looked at Andromache.

"Please," said Andromache weakly, feeling as if she was about to lose control over the tears that were mounting in her eyes, "please go, Paris." She saw the reluctance to leave wash over Paris's face and added: "I will call for you if I need you."

Paris nodded and left the chamber.

Alone, once again, in the chamber she had shared with Hector, Andromache began to cry quietly. She lay down on the bed with Astyanax and watched as he drifted off to sleep, unaware that his father lay dead in the Greek camp.

* * *

Achilles sat alone in his tent. He was absorbed with staring at his sword, the sword which had caused so much pain for others because he had used it. The blood of Hector still dripped from it and Achilles suddenly stood up and went to it. He gathered fresh water from the sea and an old cloth, and silently began to wipe away the royal blood. 

Once he had washed the blood away from his sword, Achilles returned it to the stand were his armor hung. He then returned to his chair and bottle of wine.

The flap of Achilles's tent was suddenly opened, and a man wearing a thick dark robe stepped inside. For a few moments the man simply stared at Achilles, and Achilles stared back as he was unaware who the man was and why he had come to him, but then the man pulled down his hood to reveal he was King Priam.

Priam walked to where Achilles sat, his eyes dark and blood shot. He was past the point of fearing for his own life now and only wanted his son's body returned to him. He knelt down before the murderer of his son, and countless Trojan lives, and kissed Achilles's hands.

"I have endured what no one on Earth has endured before," said Priam, and he stared into the eyes of Achilles, freely allowing tears to fall down his aged face. "I have kissed the hands of the man who killed my son."

Killing opponents in battle had never affected Achilles before; he had never had to face the loved ones of those he had killed, but now he looked at the father of a man he had killed, and it stirred an emotion he had never felt before, guilt.

"How did you get in here?" questioned Achilles. He was moved by the old man and rose from where he sat and helped Priam to his feet.

"I know my own kingdom better than the Greeks," answered Priam. He was silent for a few moments and then ventured to speak on. "Give Hector back to me. I have brought a ransom fit for a king, enjoy it all, but give Hector back to me."

Achilles stared at the old king, searching within the man's eyes for a hint of hatred towards him, but there was none. Instead, Achilles only saw desperation and grief swirling through the pools of the king's eyes. "There's nothing you can do now, Hector is dead."

"I can give him the proper funeral rites he deserves," said Priam weakly, exhausted from the pain he felt within. "I can give him the honour of being burned in his kingdom, and I can take some pain away from his wife and child by bringing him home."

At the mention of Hector's wife and child, Achilles flinched. He had known that Princess Andromache of Thebe, the country he had sacked long ago, was now the widow of Hector, but hearing Hector had a son reminded Achilles of his own son, Neoptolemus.

Neoptolemus was the son of Achilles and Deidamia, the daughter of King Lycomedes of Scyros. Achilles had once believed he loved Deidamia, but he was often called away to battle and so their love dwindled. Neoptolemus had rarely seen his father as he grew into the man he was today, and had been twenty years old when Achilles was called away to war.

Always wishing to follow in the steps of his father, Neoptolemus had wanted to go to Troy and fight with his father, but Deidamia had managed to persuade her son from going. But she knew that the time would soon come when Neoptolemus would be called to fight, just like Achilles had been years ago.

"Remember you own father, Achilles," said Priam, "his old heart rejoices to hear you are alive, but me … my life is cursed by fate. You have taken my eldest son away from me, the heir to my throne and defender of my kingdom."

Achilles was torn away from his own thoughts of the past and turned to look at Priam.

"Allow me this one mercy and give Hector back to me," pleaded Priam, he was not ashamed to lose all self-control and weep in front of the murderer of his son; he would do anything to have his son's body restored to him.

"I will return Hector to you," Achilles said finally, after a few minutes of silence. He walked towards the flap of the tent and went to leave, but then turned back to look at Priam, who followed him. "Remain here; I will call for you when he's ready."

Priam nodded and slowly stepped back, and sat in the chair Achilles gestured for him to sit in.

Achilles took a torch and left the tent, he called to two of his myrmidons to unload the ransom on Priam's wagon, and then called for two servants to bathe and anoint Hector's body. He looked out to the sea that crashed against the beach and waited while Hector's body was prepared for its return to Troy.

When the servants had bathed and anointed the body with olive oil and wrapped it in a dark shroud, they returned to their own tents and left Achilles. Achilles silently lifted Hector's body and carefully rested it on the wagon. But before he called for Priam, Achilles slowly pulled back some of the cloak from Hector's face.

Tears filled Achilles's eyes as he looked upon the prince he had robbed of life. "Soon, well shall meet again." He then covered Hector's face once more and called to Priam.

Priam quickly left Achilles's tent and paused for a moment when he saw his son's body on the wagon, he felt as if a sword had cut into his heart at the sight, but he persevered and walked to where Achilles stood by the wagon.

"How many days do you need to bury your son?" asked Achilles, his tone was unreadable and the tears had vanished from his face.

"Twelve," said Priam quietly, wondering why Achilles would ask such a question.

"Then no Greek will attack Troy for twelve days," said Achilles. He then helped Priam board the wagon, saying no more.

Priam was speechless as he boarded the wagon, and he continued to gaze at Achilles until the god-like man was out of sight. He was stunned that Achilles had shown him such kindness when he had expected to be killed by him.

For a few moments, Achilles watched as the wagon began its journey to Troy and then he returned to his tent. He slowly sunk down on his bed and waited for sleep to consume him.

* * *

**A/N:** As many of you don't wish to see some characters die at the end, I'm considering writing another short piece, which will be separate from this, that has certain characters live. I'll let you know if I decide to do this. And thank you for all of the reviews :) 

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you for the review :) Achilles will probably suffer more; I'll definitely try anyway.

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **It's interesting that Cassandra kills Achilles in the Firebrand, I've not read it but I need to. Thank you for the review and I'm glad you liked the last chapter :)

**Idun03 – **Thank you, I'm really glad you think I've done a good job with Hector's death etc. I've not decided if Andromache will ever truly forgive Paris, but at the moment I don't think she really will. Thank you for the review :)

**Kitera – **Thank you for the review, and I'm really glad you liked the last chapter :) Poor Andromache indeed, she'll have a hard time of it now I'm afraid :(

**Gaby – **I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, even though it was sad. I usually like Achilles too, but hate him when I read/see that he kills Hector. Thank you for the review :)

**meitsiwong36 – **You're welcome about not letting Andromache marry another man, I could never write that and it just would be … wrong, lol! Thank you for the review, and I'm really flattered that you can't get this story out of your head :)


	51. Chapter 51

There is no cure to be found when the one you love has gone, and Andromache felt the bitterness of this as she walked through the palace with Astyanax. Astyanax walked a few steps ahead of his mother, choosing his steps carefully as he was still unsteady on his small feet.

Dawn had approached Troy and the palace was still as Andromache and Astyanax walked to the stables, Astyanax had begged his mother to see his father's horse. He seemed ignorant of his father's whereabouts and Andromache still had not told him where Hector was, she couldn't even form words in her mind that she could say.

Andromache was surprised she had made it through the night; she had remained awake all night, sometimes sitting beside Astyanax while he slept and sometimes standing out on the balcony. She felt lost and felt as if she had lost all purpose in living, except to care for Astyanax.

Hector had been everything to Andromache; he had not only been her husband and lover, but her friend. She had confided in him and he had confided in her. With Hector gone, it felt as if a vital part of Andromache had gone too, without Hector she felt as if she couldn't function.

"Stables!" cried Astyanax and he began to run as soon as he saw the stables.

A gasp escaped Andromache's mouth when her eyes caught sight of the stables. The stables had been Hector's refuge, one place he found peace except from when he was with her. She shook her head slowly as the thought that Hector would never walk in those stables again crept into her mind.

"Hector," whispered Andromache, her lips barely moving. She felt tears creep into her eyes but she didn't release them. She inhaled deeply and called for Astyanax to stop and wait for her.

Suddenly, loud cries erupted from the walls of Troy. Andromache could barely see the men on the walls from where she stood in the palace and she turned to Astyanax and called to him again.

"Come here, Astyanax," said Andromache quickly, fear in her voice. She knelt on one knee and picked her son up into her arms, once he had come to her. She looked around for a servant but saw none and then hurried to the entrance hall, hoping to find an explanation for such noise there.

Once Andromache had reached the entrance hall with Astyanax clinging to her, she saw streams of people flooding out of their homes and racing to the gates of Troy. Her eyes widened in confusion, she couldn't understand what madness had suddenly consumed them, but then she saw the cause.

Amidst the crowds of Trojans, a wagon made its way to the palace. Andromache swayed on her feet, feeling as if she were about to fall to the ground with pain. Her heart felt as if it were being ripped in two as she saw the body of Hector, her loving husband, on the wagon. She hadn't even been told that Priam had gone for him, she had never been warned of the pain one felt when seeing a loved one dead.

Tears that had gathered for so long now began to sting Andromache's eyes. She feared releasing them because she knew if she allowed one tear to rush down her face, then she wouldn't stop.

A stab of pain shot through her as she looked at her husband's body, a pain so agonizing that she had to clench her fist to keep the pain within her. Hector's body was covered, but Andromache could still imagine the expressionless face of her husband, she could still imagine his brown eyes that no longer held emotion.

"Oh Hector, my son!" sobbed Hecuba as she arrived in the entrance hall, and saw the wagon approach the palace. She was surrounded by five handmaidens who had followed her everywhere since Hector's death. She looked like death; her face was pale and her eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears.

Andromache sharply turned her head to look at Hecuba; she opened her mouth in shock for a moment because she had never seen the Queen of Troy so lost in grief.

Hecuba rushed down the stairs from the entrance hall and to the wagon which had stopped at the end of them. She flung herself onto Hector's body, uncovering his face and hands to kiss them.

Priam stepped off the wagon and went to his wife to comfort her but she pushed him away.

"You allowed that woman to stay!" screamed Hecuba, not caring that hundreds of Trojans watched her. "I told you that Helen would bring death to us all, I told you to send her back to her husband! You didn't listen to _me_, your wife and Queen of Troy!"

Paris quickly entered the entrance hall, closely followed by Helen and Polyxena. He had heard the grief of his countrymen from his chamber, where he had drowned in his own pool of sorrow. He went down to the wagon, and ordered for the Trojans to step back, to give his family space.

"Mother," Paris said softly, "come back to the palace and allow Helen to take you to your chamber. You need to rest."

"Helen?" snarled Hecuba and raised herself to her full height. "I have secretly hated her all the years she has been here because I've been afraid of angering your father who takes pity on her! I hate Helen with every bone in my body and I wish to the gods that she had died instead of Hector, instead of the hundreds of Trojans who fought to defend us!"

Paris's face was void of emotion. He inhaled quietly, and stepped closer to his mother and attempted to put his arm around her but she pushed him away. It was then that his face betrayed the torment, the guilt and sorrow he felt within.

Helen watched as Paris didn't defend her against his mother, and it was then that her heart began to break as she realised that Paris didn't really love her. She silently stepped away from the hall and walked away, battling with her own guilt and sorrow.

Andromache saw Paris turn away from his mother and walk away into the palace by another door. She then stared at the face of her husband, which still lay uncovered.

"Daddy?" said Astyanax and pointed to the body of his father. He narrowed his eyes in confusion, wondering why his father lay on the wagon and why he didn't wake up. "Why is daddy there?"

Andromache gasped with horror, she hadn't even thought to cover Astyanax's eyes or take him back to their chamber. She saw that both Hecuba and Priam had heard Astyanax, and were looking to her to see what she would answer to such a painful question.

"Daddy … daddy has," stuttered Andromache, trying to form suitable words in her mouth to say to her small child.

Cassandra suddenly appeared from a corridor leading to the hall; she walked forward to Andromache and smiled weakly to her sister-in-law. "Your father has gone to live with the mighty gods, Astyanax."

Andromache opened her mouth to speak, but Astyanax quickly spoke before her.

"When will he come back?" he mumbled. He looked again to the wagon, confused at how his father could be with the gods when he lay on the wagon.

"He'll not come back," whispered Andromache, each word a trial for her to speak, "but he'll always watch over you, my darling." She then embraced her son tightly and walked away to her chamber with him.

* * *

For nine days Hector was mourned within Troy. His body was laid in one of the great halls within the palace, and Trojans were allowed to see the body of their fallen prince and pay respect. It was only at night or early in the morning, and alone, that members of the royal family came to see Hector and pay homage. 

Soldiers and simple countrymen braved their fears and stepped outside of the walls of Troy and went into the hills to collect timber for Hector's pyre. They were faced with no Greek, as Achilles had stayed true to his word and no Greek was allowed to attack Troy. Instead, the Greeks were occupied with funeral games for Patroclus.

On the tenth day, the day Hector was to be burned, Andromache rose before dawn and went to see the body of her husband, leaving Astyanax with Xanthe. She wore a black veil and robe with gold jewelry, including a necklace Hector had given her when Astyanax was born.

She quietly entered the hall where Hector's body rested and ordered for the guards to leave before kneeling down beside her husband.

For a few moments all she did was stare at his face, the face which had lost all warmth and love it had once retained for her. She picked up Hector's hand and kissed it, wishing to feel his skin against her lips once more.

"You've left me a widow," wept Andromache, and she allowed tears to fall from her face which had been mounting in her eyes since the day of Hector's death, "and you've left our son fatherless. You swore never to leave me, and yet you're gone!" She breathed in deeply and cradled Hector's hand within her own. "Since you have died I've wished that I had never been forced to marry you, so that I could be spared this pain, this constant suffering within my heart. But when I look at you, when I look at our son and feel the love I feel for you, I know that I would suffer again and again because you loved me and I loved you!"

A door to the hall suddenly opened and Paris entered alone. He immediately saw Andromache knelt beside the body of his brother, and turned to leave but she noticed him and rose to her feet.

"You may stay," said Andromache clearly, she had quickly hid her grief and wiped away her tears while Paris wasn't watching her. "I am leaving now."

"Don't go because of me," said Paris sadly, and quickly walked to Andromache. He pulled her back as she moved to leave and she slowly turned to face him.

"Remove your hand from my arm," said Andromache sternly, her eyes were full of loathing for Paris.

Paris returned his hand by his side. "How is Astyanax? Does he ask for Hector?"

Andromache lowered her head for a brief moment, but she soon raised it and stared into Paris's eyes. "He is well, and yes … he does ask for his father."

"How are you?" asked Paris. "You've been in your chamber with Astyanax for days, and you no longer come to the great hall for the evening meal."

"I am no longer in line to be Queen so I assumed I was not needed in the hall," said Andromache quietly.

Paris was silent for a few moments while he absorbed Andromache's words. He stepped closer to his sister-in-law. "You are still a Princess of Troy, Andromache, and you'll forever be honoured and respected throughout the city." He paused for a second and then spoke once more. "You are allowed to grieve, Andromache, no one would think any less of you."

Andromache's head shot up in anger. "_Grieve_? I am allowed to grieve, am I? How _dare _you presume that I do not battle with the grief of myhusband? Every night I am tormented with dreams filled with memories that I shared with Hector, but I keep my grief to myself because … because-,"

"Because you're strong," interjected Paris. He then departed from the hall silently and returned to his own chamber.

Paris was not surprised to find Helen away from their chamber when he returned there, he presumed she was in the market and buying more needless robes or jewelry, and so he sat out on their balcony with a cup of wine. His eyes wandered over the city of Troy, the city that his ancestors created, and he knew that soon his home would be sacked by Greeks because of his acts and because Hector was dead.

The last words of Hector continued to swirl through Paris's mind, they tortured him as he slept each night and even more as he looked at his home. It was madness to think he could defeat such a warrior as Achilles, he thought, especially when Hector, the greatest warrior of all of Troy, had died by his sword.

Paris sank back in his chair and dropped the bottle of wine to the floor; it was when he heard the crash of the glass against the floor that he finally began to weep. He leant forward and held his head within his hands as he grieved.

Helen soon returned to the chamber, she had been to the temple of Aphrodite to pray and not to the market. She saw that Paris had succumbed to his grief out on the balcony, and for a moment she felt pity for him and was going to rush to his side, but she ignored him, her heart still bleeding from the realization that he didn't love her.

* * *

Silence consumed Troy as night fell over it. Thousands of Trojans gathered in the city square and surrounded the great pyre that had been built for the fallen Prince Hector. 

Hector's body, woven in a white robe rimmed with gold thread, was carried by some of his devoted soldiers. They carried him through the crowd of mourning Trojans, and lead the way to the great pyre.

Andromache led the relatives of Hector as she was first to follow his body, she cradled her husband's crown within her hands and stared ahead, a distant gaze across her eyes. Behind Andromache, Priam and Hecuba walked together and clung onto one another in their grief. Paris followed his parents with Helen by his side, and his sisters followed behind him with other relatives following closely behind them. Polyxena, her eyes wide and bloodshot, carried Astyanax as he slept.

The royal women took their places on the thrones facing Hector's pyre, and watched as the soldiers rested his body on it. Cassandra sat beside Andromache, and held onto her sister-in-law's hand.

Priam climbed up the ladder of the pyre, once the soldiers had stepped away, with a lit torch clasped firmly in his head. He placed two coins on Hector's eyes, the coins for the boatman that would take his son to the underworld.

"You were the dearest to me of all my children," Priam said quietly as he looked at his son. "I loved you from the moment you were born and to the moment you died." He paused for a moment, unable to speak because of the flood of tears that rushed from his eyes. "Rest well, my son."

He then dropped the torch on the pyre and slowly descended down the ladder. He stepped away and sat in his throne and watched as the fire engulfed his son's body.

A sudden cry broke out among the Trojans that started even more wailing from men and women as they watched their prince burn. Astyanax, still cradled within his aunt's arms, suddenly awoke and began crying.

Polyxena rose from her throne and stepped away with Astyanax, she handed her nephew to his nurse and was about to return to her place when she felt a pair of eyes watching her. She slowly turned her head and looked into the shadows of the hall behind her.

For a brief moment Polyxena thought she was looking at Nickolas, the man a part of her still loved even though he was dead. She stepped nearer to the man, almost hypnotized by his eyes, and as she drew closer, she saw it wasn't Nickolas…

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews, I really appreciate them, and I hope you liked this chapter :) 

**meitsiwong36 – **I'm not sure how many chapters this will go up to yet, I originally planned for this to be 50 chapters, but I'm past that now so I don't know. I assure you that Paris will suffer, and the characters you listed in your review as dying will die in this (unless I change my mind). Thank you for the review :)

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you so much, I'm really glad you enjoyed the scene with Cassandra as I was a bit worried about that. I miss Hector too, and I'm considering writing a short fic where he doesn't die, but I'll finish this up first, and I'm sure yours wasn't stupid. Thank you for the review :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'll definitely read Firebrand over the summer, thank you for recommending it. I'm really glad you loved the last chapter, thank you, and thank you for the review :)

**Kitera – **I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, thank you! And thank you for the review :)


	52. Chapter 52

It felt as if someone was whispering in Polyxena's ears as she stepped closer to the man she saw, entranced by his eyes. She felt as if she were in a dream, she felt as if she was seeing Nickolas but it wasn't him. She raised her hand to caress the man's skin but then she saw Hector's pyre reflecting in his eyes and she stepped back, suddenly alarmed.

Fear swept across Polyxena's face as she stared at the man who stood before her. He was partly concealed by the shadows of the hall in which he stood, and as Polyxena looked at him she felt a tide of emotions overcome her. She looked down to the man's hands, the hands of _Achilles_, almost expecting the blood of the countless lives he had taken to be forever stained on them.

Achilles stared at Polyxena, transfixed by her simple yet breathtaking beauty. He had never seen a woman more beautiful, not even Helen could compare to her. No desire to flee erupted within Achilles, instead he allowed his eyes to wander over Polyxena's face, and his eyes only stopped when he reached her eyes.

It was almost as if Achilles could see Polyxena reliving Hector's death as he delved into her eyes. He turned away in horror; he had not come to cause even more pain to the citizens of Troy. Achilles had only come to look upon the body of Hector one last time, the body which had caused him more pain than he was ever aware of feeling, the body which had caused him to _feel_.

Disguised by an old traveling cloak, Achilles had entered Troy that day with the soldiers and countrymen who had collected timber for Hector's pyre. Most Trojans had only seen Achilles at a distance, and as he wore no armor, he was certain he would not be noticed.

"Do not fear me," whispered Achilles. He was not aware of whom Polyxena was, but he knew she was royalty by the laurel-leafed crown she wore and the finery of her robe. It did not even occur to him that she could be the sister of Hector.

Polyxena felt her heart begin to race and felt her breath quicken rapidly. She stepped backwards and turned to run but Achilles grabbed her waist and pulled her into the shadows of the hall with him.

"Please," said Achilles urgently, and he covered Polyxena's mouth with his spare hand so she could not scream, "I don't wish to hurt you." He then moved his hand from her mouth, but continued to hold her waist.

Watching from her throne beside Andromache, Cassandra turned and saw Polyxena and Achilles together. She knew what would happen and was powerless to stop it, and as she looked at her sister she felt the presence of the gods.

Cassandra could not see the gods, but she could feel them now. She stared at Polyxena and felt them whispering into her ears, urging Polyxena to help Achilles away from the palace and urging her to give her heart to Achilles so the end of Troy could begin.

Screaming suddenly erupted in Cassandra's mind as she imagined the end of Troy, she could even hear Andromache's screaming amidst the cries. She felt tears slip away from her eyes and turned away from Polyxena and Achilles, not able to watch anymore.

Polyxena closed her eyes in pain, feeling as if her skin burnt while Achilles's held her. She could hear voices in her mind, voices telling her to help Achilles away from the city because it was the only way the war would begin to end.

"I will let you go," said Achilles slowly, "and you may call the guards if you wish but please know that I did not come here to cause pain." He didn't know why he was explaining himself to this woman, but he felt as if he must because it was the truth.

Polyxena looked across to Andromache and knew that her sister-in-law could not see Achilles now; it would cause her even more pain to see Achilles free and not dead like Hector. "I will help you away from the city."

Achilles slowly released his hold on Polyxena's waist. His eyes were narrowed in confusion as he looked at her. "Why would you help me?"

"You did not come to Troy to be found," said Polyxena and she glared at Achilles, "if you had then you would not be wearing a cloak. If I had called the guards then you would have slaughtered every one of them." She paused for a moment and lowered her head slightly. "Too much blood has been shed, and the people are already consumed with grief."

Achilles said nothing; although he secretly knew what Polyxena had said was true. He was not ready to die yet and because of that he would have fought anyone that challenged him.

"Follow me," said Polyxena firmly. She led the way from the hall, a few steps ahead of Achilles so she could make sure their path was clear. As she passed through the hall she turned to look at her mother and father once more and she released tears at the thought of the betrayal on their faces if they were to ever learn what she had done.

The night air was cold against Polyxena's bare arms and she folded them together as she led Achilles away from the courtyard and to the stables. She was not surprised to find the stables deserted of people because she knew they would be at her brother's funeral, where she should have been.

Polyxena slowly walked towards the stable of her own horse and stepped inside to quickly prepare it for riding. She ordered Achilles to wait outside and she quietly said goodbye to her faithful horse, knowing that she could easily lie to the stable hands about its disappearance because it was hers, and led it out into the night.

"I'll ride with you on this horse towards the gates of Troy," said Polyxena, her voice shivering slightly, "and you must remain concealed by your cloak. Once we near the walls I will dismount the horse and lead you for the rest of the way. Then I'll command the guards to open the gates for you and you will ride out from them and to the hills. Once you reach the hills you will leave the horse and return to the Greek camp by foot. Do you understand?"

"Yes, thank you," said Achilles and he stared at Polyxena with wonder, amazed she had thought of a plan so quickly. She seemed so controlled, yet as he looked into her eyes Achilles could see emotions wishing to pour out of them.

"Do not thank me!" whispered Polyxena, she did not feel worthy of thanks from anyone. She inhaled deeply and wished this were all a dream that she would soon wake from, but she raised her head and saw Achilles staring at her and she knew it was no dream.

Polyxena watched as Achilles mounted her horse and she stepped forward to mount it herself when she saw Achilles outstretch his hand towards her. Instead of pushing Achilles's hand away, Polyxena took it and he helped her onto the horse. She gripped the reins firmly in her hands and they rode off together towards the walls.

As the gates of Troy came into sight, Polyxena dismounted the horse and led the remaining way on foot. She was silent as she walked, as was Achilles as he rode the horse, and she thought only of getting him away from the city without being seen.

Once they reached the gates, Polyxena ordered the guards to open the gates. She could feel her heart beating ferociously against her insides, and felt as if it would explode as she waited for the guards to follow her order. The guards, although confused, opened the gates without question.

Achilles looked down to Polyxena and leaned down to her level, while still sitting on the horse. He did not smile, yet his eyes were kind and gentle. "Thank you for helping me."

"I did not do it to help you," said Polyxena and she avoided Achilles's eyes. She felt what she had said was true, although she could not ignore the sudden feeling that perhaps she had acted to help him.

Achilles nodded and then it occurred to him that he did not know her name. He was about to ask when he suddenly heard a woman shouting.

Lysandra, a niece of Priam and now almost twenty-two years old, walked quickly towards Polyxena. She had seen her cousin leave Hector's funeral and was worried and so followed her. "Polyxena, wait!"

A horrified look washed over Polyxena's face as she looked at Lysandra. She could not allow anyone to see Achilles and so she sharply turned her head to face him once more. "You must go!"

Achilles wore a shocked expression as he looked at Polyxena. His mouth was slightly open and he stared at her as he tried to register what he had heard. "You're … you're Princess Polyxena? You're Hector's _sister_?"

"Yes," said Polyxena sadly. She couldn't imagine what was going through Achilles's mind as she looked at him. She thought he must think her to be the worst woman in the world to betray and dishonour her family, and for some reason she didn't want him to think ill of her.

Achilles said no more, he straightened up on the horse and looked at Polyxena once more before riding out of the gates and towards the hills.

For a few moments Polyxena stood where she was, looking out through the gates even though Achilles and her horse had ridden from sight. She eventually ordered for the gates to be closed and turned to leave.

"Who was that you were with?" asked Lysandra, slightly out of breath, once she had reached her cousin. "I followed you to make sure you were all right."

"It was no one of importance," answered Polyxena and she continued to walk until she returned to the palace and to her chamber.

* * *

**A/N:** This was the hardest chapter I've ever had to write, and I rewrote it so many times, which is why it has taken me longer to update. Thank you for all of the reviews, they really spurred me on, so thank you :) 

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you, I'm really glad you liked the last chapter and thank you for the review. I'm afraid that I won't be killing Helen in this, however tempting killing people that may be ;)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm really glad you thought the last chapter was one of the better chapters, because I feel the same way, thank you. Thank you for the review too :)

**Gaby – **I'm finding it hard to believe Hector is dead too, it went by so fast! I'm really glad you liked the last chapter and that it was exciting at the end, thank you and thank you for the review :)

**Meitsi – **Helen and Paris will definitely have a scene were they are arguing soon and I'm afraid Polyxena will have the same end as in the mythological way. Thank you for the review and I'm really glad you're looking forward to the next fic :)

**Kitera – **Yep, the guy is Achilles. Thank you for the review and I'm really glad you thought the last chapter was emotional and vivid – that was what I was aiming for :)

**Topezgrl – **Thank you for reviewing both chapter 48 and 51 :) I'm really glad you like how I use similar themes and ideas from the book and I'm glad you liked both chapters, thank you.

**Cozzy – **Thank you for the review and I'm really glad you like this story, I'll definitely finish it :) My favourite character is Andromache too, and I'm glad you liked the last chapter.

**Lily – **Thank you so much for the lovely review and I'm thrilled that you think this is the best Troy fanfic ever, thank you :) And I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, thanks!


	53. Chapter 53

The distinct sound of swords being sharpened greeted Achilles when he returned to the Greek camp. It was barely morning and the soldiers were already ravenous for war after a nine day famine.

Ignoring the questioning glances of his men, Achilles entered his tent and collapsed on the bed. He had rested only once during the walk from the hills and so he still felt fatigued.

Sleep had almost come to Achilles when he was once again disturbed by the thought of Polyxena. He could not think of her without thinking of Hector, and so he had tried to push her away from his mind, but each time she would return to his mind, and Hector's image would fade.

The flaps of Achilles's tent were suddenly parted and Odysseus entered. His face was pale and thinner looking and his hair appeared as if it had not been groomed for weeks.

"Where have you been?" Odysseus asked angrily as he looked at Achilles. "Agamemnon called a meeting this morning and he wanted you there, where were you?"

Achilles sat up on his bed, surprised by his friend's unusually perturbed temper. Odysseus was commonly known as the definition for calmness, but the sight of him now proved that the war was holding its toll on everyone.

"I was occupied elsewhere," said Achilles, reluctant to reveal to Odysseus that he had entered Troy. He knew if he told Odysseus that he had entered Troy, then the king would demand to know how.

Odysseus sighed heavily and rushed a hand through his unkempt and graying hair. "Agamemnon is in a foul mood, he has been ever since Priam entered and left this camp freely." He then looked at Achilles again, but his eyes held no accusation or judgment.

"I gave Agamemnon the ransom from Priam," said Achilles, "what more can he want?"

Odysseus sneered. "Agamemnon would have the world if he could, but for now he wants Troy. He knows that Troy's army is leaderless and that the army is weak with grief, which is why he is eager to attack and end this war."

Achilles nodded as he took in Odysseus's words. He knew Agamemnon was right to be eager now that Troy's army was severely wounded, but he could not help feeling remorse.

* * *

In the palace of Troy, Helen watched Paris as he delved into the recent battle plans Hector had made just before his death. She watched with scrutinizing eyes, still feeling the bitterness of her sudden revelation that he did not love her, because she could still remember what she now thought was a pitiful attempt to fight with Menelaus, although at the time she had thought Paris the most amazing man alive. 

Helen had not spoken to Paris of the day that Hector's body had been returned to Troy. She had not told him of how her heart had broken when she realised that he did not love her as she had thought.

Even though she knew Paris did not love her like she loved him, or at all, Helen still continued to love him. It was her attempt at not admitting that the war had started for nothing, that the war was not because two people loved each other more than life itself and that they were willing to risk all for that. And in the depths of her mended heart, Helen feared that if she argued with Paris then he would leave her, showing everyone that lives had been lost for nothing, and despite everything, she could not bear to be parted from him.

A knock suddenly sounded on their chamber door which startled Helen as she had been absorbed within her own thoughts.

"Enter," said Paris clearly, not removing his eyes from the scrolls he poured over.

A servant girl entered the room carrying more watered wine for Paris. She did not seem to notice that Helen was in the room and rested the fresh bottle of wine on the table Paris sat at.

The girl looked down to Paris with flirtatious eyes and a sweet smile. She was yet another one of his conquests.

"You may leave now," said Helen sternly. Her voice surprised the servant who left quickly.

Paris did not look up from his papers; he had not even noticed the looks the girl had given him, or the agonizing look on Helen's face.

Helen rose from her chair and walked towards where Paris sat. She could not contain her pain anymore; she could not contain her anger while Paris's mistresses flaunted themselves in front of her eyes.

"Did you ever love me?" asked Helen, her voice abnormally weak and cheerless.

"What?" said Paris, and he turned to look up at Helen who stood by his side. He slowly stood to his feet and stared at Helen with confusion.

"_Did_ you ever love me?" repeated Helen, although her words were more vehement this time. She glared into Paris's eyes, daring him to speak the truth.

"Of course I did," insisted Paris, "I still do love you." He tried to take Helen's face in his hands so he could kiss her, but she stepped away from him.

"Don't lie to me, Paris!" cried Helen and she was alarmed to feel tears rushing down her face. "If you love me then why do you bed servants and temple-maids, when you have me? If you love me then why do you not show it, why did you not defend me against your mother when Hector's body was returned to Troy? Why, Paris?"

Paris turned away from Helen; he was not able to look at her unusual hurt and joyless face. "I'm sorry, Helen." He was then silent, thinking of something to say to rid Helen's mind of thoughts that he didn't love her, even though it was true. He had loved her in the beginning and in a way he still did, but that love could not compare to the love he felt for another.

"Is that all you can say?" Helen asked quietly.

"No," said Paris sadly. He looked at Helen and smiled weakly, he then raised his hand to gently caress her smooth skin. "I love only you, Helen. I feel nothing for the women I bed, _nothing_. I could not defend you against my mother because she was already in such a state of grief … I couldn't hurt her more, not when she had just seen Hector's body."

Helen wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her thin, red robe and smiled. With just a few words her mind was soothed and she once again felt herself enclosed within Paris's arms as he embraced her.

* * *

With a cool breeze drifting through from her balcony facing towards the sea, Polyxena lay in her bed as night rested over Troy. She looked up to the ceiling of her chamber, thoughts whirling through her mind. 

She felt her body tense with guilt when she thought of how she had helped Achilles away from the city, but she felt her heart soften when she thought only of him.

Polyxena had imagined Achilles to be a cruel and merciless warrior, even more so when she had watched him kill her brother, but when she thought of how he was last night, she knew that was not him. She had seen the emotions of Achilles, she had fought past his defenses and searched within his eyes and found a man worth loving.

The thin veil that hung at the side of Polyxena's balcony, which she would draw across it each night, suddenly billowed with the wind.

Polyxena sat up and turned towards the balcony, intending to draw the veil when she saw Achilles standing there.

Feeling as if their hearts had drawn them together, and not the mighty gods, Achilles and Polyxena walked up to one another.

"How did you get here?" asked Polyxena and her eyes wandered over Achilles's face.

"Sshhh…," whispered Achilles and he took Polyxena's face within his hands and softly kissed her.

* * *

Dawn soon sprinkled light over Troy and Achilles awoke. He gently turned his head to look at Polyxena who slept beside him and he smiled faintly, recalling the feel of her hands over him in the night, and the feel of her skin against his own. 

Achilles leaned on his left hand and with his other he softly rushed his fingers along Polyxena's back while she slept.

The son of Peleus had never felt such love for another before, he felt as if he could smile and be happy forever, just because he was with Polyxena. He had found a woman so wonderful and beautiful, a woman he could love.

Polyxena slowly woke as she felt the gentle hands of Achilles race down her bare back. She smiled when she saw him gazing intently at her, and felt her skin tingle with delight when he caressed her face.

Together in the chamber, Polyxena and Achilles felt as if they were living in their own world. All thoughts of the war and of family and friends had vanished from their minds, but the horns of battle sounding from the walls of Troy soon smashed their ideal world apart.

Achilles looked at Polyxena and then out of the balcony, where he could see the horns on the walls in the distance. He had forgotten all about the war, the war which had been fixed in his mind every day for over ten years, because of Polyxena, she had brought him peace.

Polyxena stared at Achilles with horrified eyes and she quickly lowered her head so he would not see. She felt as if she had suddenly woken from a dream, a dream where Achilles was not the murderer of her brother, but the man she loved. And as the war horns echoed throughout the city, Polyxena realised that she was no longer in a dream.

Silence consumed the chamber as Achilles chose whether he would stay with Polyxena or fight. He knew he could not slaughter her countrymen each day and then go to her, and so as he looked at her he decided that no, he would not fight.

"You have to go," said Polyxena quietly and continued to bow her head, "you can not be found here." She could not bear to look into the eyes of Achilles when he stared back at her with love, a love she could not return.

The gods had wrapped Polyxena and Achilles into a world where there was no war, a world that did not exist. As the war horns had sounded, Polyxena had broke free from that world and knew she did not love Achilles, but he had not broke free from the world the gods had spun for him, and so he still loved her…

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the lack of Andromache, but I have a lot to get into the remaining chapters. I can say that she'll be in the next chapter. Thank you for the reviews :) 

**meitsiwong36 – **Priam certainly had a lot of children! I knew Helenus was Priam's son and not a horse, but I liked the name Helenus and decided to use it :) And I'm sorry I mentioned Andromache indirectly and only once in the last chapter. Thank you for the review!

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you for the review and I'm glad you liked how I wrote the last chapter :) I'll definitely kill Achilles soon, in about three chapters I think.

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm glad you liked the writing in the last chapter and the Achilles/Polyxena interaction, thank you! Polyxena's end will be the same as in the myth, and thank you for the review :)


	54. Chapter 54

Each night since Hector had died, Andromache would dream of him. She would lay awake at night in the bed they had shared, waiting for sleep to come to her so she could dream of him once more.

As she slept, Andromache dreamt that she was standing on the beach of Troy in her wedding robe. She felt the sparkling sea lap against her bare feet and smiled broadly when she saw Hector walk towards her and wrap his arms around her. He brushed her hair from her eyes before telling her that he loved her, that he would _always_ love her.

Astyanax woke in his bassinet at the sound of the war horns echoing throughout the city. He sat up and cried for his father, outstretching his arms because he still expected his father to leap out of bed and come to him, but Hector never came and Astyanax cried louder.

Andromache awoke with a start, and went to Astyanax and picked him up into her arms. She kissed her son's head and rested him against the robe she had worn for the feast in honour of Hector, even though that had been on the day of his funeral two days ago.

She had not eaten during the feast in honour of Hector, she had taken her place and remained silent all night as she bounced Astyanax on her knee and tempted him with fruit and meat. Paris and Priam had remained quiet through the feast also, both absorbed within memories that they had shared with Hector. But Hecuba could not help but succumb to her grief and she had cried constantly as she held onto Hector's crown, until Cassandra helped her to her chamber.

Andromache sat down at the table with Astyanax and carefully helped him drink fresh water from Hector's cup, Astyanax had insisted upon using it since his father had gone. She then called for a servant to bring her son some of the fruit that had been collected when the men had left Troy to collect wood for Hector's pyre.

As Astyanax ate and played with the wooden horses and lions Hector had carved for him, Andromache sat at the table where she would keep her few remaining jewels that she had not given to Priam for gold to be spent on the war. She then looked across to her robes and decided that she would change today.

The robe she had worn for Hector's feast and funeral had almost become a sanctuary for her. She would walk through the palace and everyone would avoid her gaze, including Priam if she was to see him and she preferred that rather than them rushing up and pitying her.

She inhaled deeply and called for Astyanax's nurse to care for him, and then she picked up the robe she had worn when Hector had said he loved her for the first time, even though it was old and fraying at the sides, and went to the wash rooms.

Andromache was not aware of how long she spent bathing in a bath filled with an assortment of oils, or how long she spent scrubbing her skin raw. She rose from the bath and dried herself before allowing Xanthe, who had gone with her, to help her with the robe and with her hair.

When Andromache left the wash room she did not return to her chamber, instead she decided to walk through the palace to clear her mind. She still felt the tears in her eyes that had crept upon her when she dressed in her robe, and didn't want Astyanax to see her now.

As Andromache neared the entrance hall she saw Hecuba clinging on to one of her handmaidens while sobbing. She turned her head slightly and saw servants helping Paris with his armor, and Priam and Helen begging him to stay in Troy … and not fight.

She was about to turn away, not wishing to be seen, when she heard Hecuba call out for her, having noticed her daughter-in-law.

"Andromache, please come and talk some sense into Paris," cried Hecuba, "he wishes to fight, but I couldn't bear to lose another son, not now."

Paris turned to where he saw his mother's attention fixed and smiled sadly when he saw Andromache. He had not seen her since Hector's funeral and had wished to see her but he had always been sent away when he went to her chamber by one of the servants.

"You can't fight, Paris," said Priam, he sounded exhausted from a lack of sleep and grief. He looked at his son sadly and knew that he was adamant to fight. "Please don't fight, my son. Your mother and I couldn't bear it if we were to lose you too."

"I have to fight," said Paris and he glanced briefly at Andromache. "Troy's army is leaderless, and until another man is appointed to lead, I will." He then took his bow and quiver of arrows from his servant and kissed his mother and Helen before leaving the entrance hall and going to the chariot which waited for him at the end of the steps.

Helen watched as Paris rode away on the chariot and then returned to her own chamber, deciding to lie down before watching him fight as she felt unwell.

"Go after him, Priam!" said Hecuba and she pushed away from her handmaiden and went to her husband.

Priam tore his eyes away from his city and turned to look at his wife. "Paris is allowed to make his own decisions; I can not step in his way." He then stepped away from his wife, offering her no comfort, and walked away from the hall alone.

Andromache watched Hecuba for a few moments before walking to her and taking her arm. She admired her mother-in-law for showing her grief; it was something she rarely did because she felt as if each time she did, she was accepting that Hector was dead.

"I'll help you to your chamber," said Andromache softly. She dismissed Hecuba's handmaidens and walked with her mother-in-law in silence.

* * *

Death hovered over the plain of Troy like a scavenging vulture. The foul stench of blood and sweat overcame Paris as he rode out into battle on his chariot. 

Paris had been on the battlefield before when fighting Menelaus, and had watched war commence from the safety of the walls, but now he saw the war from the perspective of a warrior, and immediately thought of his brother, Hector.

Greeks charged at Paris's chariot and he killed each of them with a shot of his arrow or with a swing of his blade. He felt as if the spirit of Hector was near him, telling him how to win each fight, when really it was a god whispering in his mind to aid him.

The sight of blood had always repulsed Paris, but today he fought on with only the thought of Troy and defending it echoing through his mind.

* * *

A whirlwind of thought had surrounded Achilles after he had left Polyxena and returned to the Greek camp. Polyxena had once again helped him leave the city by giving him a horse and the armor of a Trojan soldier. He had worn the armor out of the city and until he reached the Greek camp. 

The Greek soldiers knew it was Achilles and did not attack him; instead they praised him because they thought he had stolen the armor of a Trojan he had killed. It never crossed any of their minds that he had been given the armor by a Trojan princess.

Achilles walked along the shores of Troy and stared off across the sea, thoughts spinning in his mind. He had decided not to fight and would stand by that, but he could not help feel restless with wanting to see Polyxena again.

He looked at his fellow countrymen, all consumed within their own desires for the war to end favorably to them, so they could return home.

It was then that Achilles knew what he had to do; he was determined to not become one of those men who lay awake each night at war while they thought of loved ones. He had found a woman that he loved, and that was Polyxena. He would not be parted from her when she was so near to him … yet so far.

Achilles quickly returned to his tent where he once again dressed in the Trojan armor Polyxena had given him.

As he left the tent, a selection of his myrmidons sat outside their tents, drinking while cleaning their armor because they had been ordered not to fight by him. They looked up at Achilles in unison and laughed.

"The Trojans will think you're once of them," laughed Alcaeus, one of Achilles's myrmidons, "especially if you go onto the plain again in_ that_!"

Along with his fellow myrmidons, Alcaeus appeared confused when he saw Achilles mount a horse and ride off onto the plain. None of them dared to question their leader and so continued to clean their armor, allowing the thought to fade from their minds.

As if the gods had made him invisible, Achilles rode across the plain while Trojan and Greek soldiers fought valiantly against one another. He steadied his horse when he reached the gates of Troy and ordered for them to be opened, with no fear of being recognised.

The blazing sun glared down on the eyes of those that controlled the gates. They shielded their eyes against the sun and allowed Achilles to enter, after seeing only his armor and not his face.

With the wind by his side as he rode, Achilles raced towards the palace. His horse passed through the city so swiftly that Achilles and his horse were little more than a blur.

The stairs leading to the entrance hall of the palace soon came into view and Achilles once again steadied his horse. He could see the guards in the hall already staring suspiciously at him before they could clearly see his face, and he dismounted his horse.

A mixture of fear and shock spread across the guards' faces as they stood at their posts and saw Achilles. A few hurried to notify King Priam and gather more men, while the rest descended the stairs and walked to Achilles, their fears now concealed.

"I did not come here to fight," said Achilles and he tore the Trojan armor from his torso, leaving only a few layers of oxhide covering his chest, and dropped his sword to the ground to show he spoke the truth. "I only come to speak with King Priam."

Confusion quickly filled the eyes of the men who surrounded Achilles. They drew in closer around him, not wanting to believe that Achilles actually spoke the truth.

Feeling somewhat better and wanting to watch Paris fight, wishing to comfort him by being on the halls, Helen entered the entrance hall to leave and go to the walls. Her head was bowed in thought so she did not see Achilles until she heard guards rush past her and down the steps.

Achilles looked up to the hall at the sound of more guards approaching and saw Helen. He gasped quietly, shocked to see her when he had not seen her since she lived in Sparta and had attended her brother's funeral.

Hatred for Helen freely oozed from Achilles's eyes and he could feel his blood begin to boil as he looked at her. Since the beginning of the war he had blamed Helen for it, knowing that she did not care what pain she caused others as long as she got what she wanted.

"King Priam will see you," said one of the guards and stared at Achilles, "follow me."

Achilles ripped his eyes from Helen and followed the guards that led him to Priam. He did not meet Helen's eyes as he passed her and continued to walk on with the guards surrounding him.

Priam had been in a meeting with his councilors when he was notified that Achilles had come. He had felt his heart race with anger when he heard, but he gained control of his emotions when Achilles entered the hall.

A deadly silence filled the hall as soon as Achilles entered. He saw the guards, who had surrounded him, leave and return to their posts, but he saw even more guards stationed in the hall.

Achilles knelt down before King Priam as a sign of respect and then stood to his feet, fully feeling how vulnerable he felt with each eye upon him in the room as he stood virtually unarmed.

"I shall not ask how you entered my city," said Priam, he could already imagine from the news of his guards, "but _why_ … why have you come?"

Priam's councilors remained in their places in the hall and watched as Achilles searched for words to speak. They were all shocked and confused as to why he had come to Troy; some even expected that he had come to slaughter them all.

"I wished to speak with you, King Priam," Achilles obediently answered.

"Then speak," said Priam, his voice was low but everyone could feel the anger that surrounded his words.

A still silence consumed the room while Achilles chose his words. He finally gathered them and looked at Priam.

"I wish to marry your daughter," answered Achilles, choosing to speak plainly and avoid speaking in riddles because he knew it would annoy Priam even more. "I wish to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."

Whispering suddenly broke out in the hall between the councilors; they could not believe what they were hearing. They had never imagined Achilles would come to ask for the hand in marriage to one of Priam's daughter, and it appeared that Priam felt that way also.

Disbelief spread across Priam's face, he thought he hadn't heard Achilles correctly but he then looked to the members of his council and saw that he had. "You wish to marry my daughter?" He instantly thought Achilles spoke of Cassandra as she was commonly known away from Troy, it didn't even cross his mind that Achilles spoke of Polyxena.

"Yes," Achilles answered clearly.

"You have never met my daughter Cassandra, why would you wish to marry her?" Priam asked suspiciously. He knew that many men and women did not meet before they were married, but he also knew he could not trust a man such as Achilles, a man that had killed his son and countless Trojan lives.

"I do not wish to marry Princess Cassandra," said Achilles, a hint of confusion in his voice. "I wish to marry Pol … _Princess _Polyxena."

Priam rose to his feet and glared at Achilles. "You sail to my shores and fight against my army, you then kill my son and heir, and _now_ … now you wish to marry my daughter too?"

Achilles lowered his head, unable to look into the eyes of Priam. He suddenly felt his conscious, which had awoken when killing Hector, return to him and felt foolish for ever believing Priam would grant his request.

"Why Polyxena?" asked Priam and lowered down into his throne. "Why do you wish to marry her when you've never met or seen her before?" He could not believe that Achilles simply wished to marry his daughter because he had heard of her.

"I have met her," said Achilles quietly. He then raised his head and looked into Priam's eyes. "I met your daughter on the night of Hec … your son's funeral." He could not speak Hector's name when the image of his body burning had returned to him.

"What?" Priam exclaimed incredulously. He looked to one his guards and summoned him. "Bring my daughter to me immediately."

The guard quickly left the hall alone and went to Polyxena's chamber to collect her.

Priam stared at Achilles, breathing heavily. His eyes were wide and narrowed with anger and shock as he glared at the man who had taken his son away from him, and now wished to take his daughter.

The doors to the hall soon opened and Polyxena, standing proudly despite shaking vigorously, entered and walked up to her father without looking at Achilles. She kissed her father's cheeks and knelt down before him and took his hands within her own.

"Leave us," ordered King Priam to his councilors. He then turned to his men and instructed them to take Achilles to a spare chamber and guard him until he sent for them.

As the councilors quietly left the hall, one of them, Solon, walked up to Priam and freely whispered to him: "The influence Achilles has in the Greek camp could be of use to us if we were to grant his request, King Priam. Perhaps the war could end by him marrying Princess Polyxena."

Priam turned to Solon, his eyes glaring madly. "Leave us!" He then turned to look at his daughter once everyone had left, including the guards. He knew that she had heard what his councilor had said, and that her face remained unreadable.

"As a child you would often sit on my knee while I sat on this throne," said Priam softly, while reminiscing of times past. He smiled at the simple memory and looked down to his beautiful daughter and saw that she was no longer a child, but a woman.

"I am sorry, father," said Polyxena and she kept her head lowered. She could feel tears creep into her eyes but she was adamant not to release them.

"WasAchilles in the city for Hector's funeral?" asked Priam quietly. "Did you see him that night?"

Polyxena could only nod. She felt consumed with guilt and shame and could not bear to look at her father; she did not want to see the disappointment in his eyes.

Priam was silent for a few moments while he thought. He could see that more had happened between his daughter and Achilles than them just meeting, he could read his daughter well. "Do you love him?"

"Yes," Polyxena lied. She knew she did not love Achilles, but she also knew that marrying him could end the war because of his influence in the Greek camp.

Priam closed his eyes for a few moments and took his hands away from his daughter's grasp. He rose from his throne and looked out to his city.

"I'm so sorry," cried Polyxena and she scurried to her feet. She went to her father and knelt down before him once more. "Please, father, please look at me!" She stared up at his face, now desperate to see her father's reassuring eyes.

Priam bit his lip as he tried to gain control of the tears that had gathered within his eyes, and then slowly turned to look at his daughter.

"Solon is right," said Polyxena and she felt tears cascade down her face, "if I were to marry Achilles then the war would end."

"I've already lost Hector," said Priam, his voice shaking as he tried to gain control of his grief, "I will not lose you as well."

"You wouldn't be losing me," said Polyxena. She ceased crying, even though she could feel a river of tears desperate to flow from her eyes.

"After all that man has done … you can love him?" asked Priam and he turned to look away from his daughter and look to his city once more.

"Yes," said Polyxena, her voice almost inaudible.

It felt like a knife had struck Priam's heart when he heard his daughter and he closed his eyes in pain. He felt as if his daughter had been possessed, he knew that she could never love a man such as Achilles, and it was then that he knew what had to be done.

"If you wish to marry him," said Priam and he helped Polyxena to her feet, "then you … can." He kissed his daughter's cheeks and looked into her eyes, and for a flicker of a second he saw that she did not love Achilles, but as quickly as he saw it, it disappeared. He returned to his throne, saying nothing to Polyxena, and ordered for Achilles to be brought in.

Polyxena took the throne beside her father, her heart beating so furiously against her ribs that she felt as if they would break. She watched, her face again unreadable, as Achilles entered the hall and saw the loving glances he gave her, but she did not return them.

"I will accept your request, Achilles," said Priam and he paused to look at his daughter before continuing, "you may marry my daughter."

Achilles breathed in happily, a smile beginning to spread across his face. He felt that his life could begin, a life with Polyxena.

"However," said Priam sternly, "you may only marry my daughter if you agree to use your influence with the Greek armies to end this war." He was silent while he read the face of Achilles and then spoke again. "_Do_ you agree?"

"Yes," answered Achilles quietly. He inhaled deeply, a smile no longer across his lips, and he looked at Polyxena. Instead of seeing the woman he had seen the previous night, he saw Polyxena as a Princess of Troy and no more. It was as if she wasn't the same woman, but he ignored that, assuming she acted differently with her father present.

"Good," said Priam slowly and he glared at Achilles, hatred freely flowing from his eyes. "You may leave and return to your camp, my guards will escort you from the city."

Guards immediately surrounded Achilles and they watched him with hawk-like eyes.

"Return to Troy tomorrow, Achilles," said Priam. "My daughter and I will greet you at the gates."

"Thank you, King Priam," said Achilles and he bowed his head slightly in respect. He was then escorted out of the city, but before leaving the hall he glanced one last time at Polyxena, but she was no longer there, having left from another door at the side of the hall.

Priam remained in the hall, deep in thought. He had seen the hope within his peoples' eyes fade when Hector died, and for the first time since then he could see hope for his people once more. Hope that would be gained when Achilles was killed…

* * *

**A/N: **This is quite a long chapter because I didn't want to break it up into two. Thank you for all of the reviews; I greatly appreciate each of them :) 

**Gaby – **Briseis was mentioned in chapter 46 of this as the concubine of Achilles, which she really was in the myth. I'm afraid Achilles will die in this, I'm not sure when but it's soon. Thank you for the review and I'm really glad you liked the last chapter :)

**Kitera – **Thank for reviewing both chapter 52 & 53 :) I'm really glad you liked the last chapter too, thank you!

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm really glad you liked the interaction between Polyxena and Achilles; it was something I was worried about. Thank you for the review :)

**Aesya – **Neoptolemus and Andromache will be covered in this, although not to a great extent I don't think. Thank you so much for the review, I'm really glad that you love this, thank you :)

**Idun03 – **I'm glad that you like that I'm going with the Iliad version, and that you find that the relationship between Achilles and Polyxena is getting interesting, thank you! Thank you for the review :)

**meistsiwong36 – **Oenone will make an appearance in the future, in the next few chapters I think. I'll probably begin the next story when I've finished this, and I'm really glad you're looking forward to it, thank you! Thank you for the review too :)

**Cozzy – **I'm really glad you liked the last chapter and thank you so much for the review :) If you're considering writing something then you should give it a go, it's great to have more writers in the Troy section and I would be happy to read it.

**WriteAway – **Thank you so much, I'm really glad you like this story. It's really nice of you to say you would buy my book if I wrote one, thank you :) And thank you for the review.

**Topezgrl – **Thank you for reviewing for both chapters 52 & 53 :) I'm really glad you liked the chapters and that you like how Achilles has been added into the story. I'm sorry that this story is slowly coming to an end, but it won't be for a few more chapters yet.

**mountaineer143 – **I'm really glad that found the character's emotions to be real and that you feel for the characters, it's really what I was aiming for. Thank you so much for the review, I'm so glad that you like it, thank you :)

**Lily – **I'm glad you liked the last chapter and that it might be your favourite, thank you! I like Achilles too, and thank you for the review :)


	55. Chapter 55

The sun began to set far across the sea of Troy when the Greek and Trojan soldiers ended their fighting for the day. The Greeks returned to their camps, while the Trojans marched into their city, some carrying the wounded and dead.

Paris led the Trojans into the city on foot, as his chariot had been damaged, and his hands were smeared with blood. His eyes were wide, filled with the horrors he had seen on the battlefield that day. He had never taken life before this day, he had never watched the life fade from someone's eyes, and he had never felt someone die in his arms.

Helen had not been able to watch Paris fight for long, she had flinched every time she saw anyone strike at him and the heat was causing her to feel faint. She had returned to her chamber to rest, but now stood alone in the hall facing the stables, waiting for Paris to return.

After briefly speaking with the captains of the army, Paris was given a horse and now rode through the city and to the royal stables at the palace. He quickly dismounted his horse after reaching his destination and handed it to a stable hand before walking to the palace.

Radiating in an orange robe rimmed with gold thread, Helen watched as Paris walked towards her, his head lowered. She sighed deeply when she saw him, relieved that he was safe and with her again.

"I'm so glad you're safe," said Helen as she rushed to him. She could see the blood on his hands but did not care and threw her arms around him.

Paris hesitantly put his arms around Helen; he felt as if the blood was burning into his flesh and was desperate to wash it away. He pulled away from Helen and made to walk with her to their chamber, but she stopped him.

"There's something you need to know," said Helen seriously, and she saw the sudden alarm on Paris's face. "Achilles came to the palace today, I saw him."

"_What_?" exclaimed Paris, and he narrowed his eyes in confusion. He shook his head slowly, dismissing Helen's words, but then he saw the truth in her eyes.

"Is everyone all right?" asked Paris, panic spreading across his face.

Helen rested her palm on Paris's cheek. "Everyone is fine, my love, he did not come to hurt anyone."

"Then why did he come?" Paris asked, feeling his breath quicken.

"He came to speak with your father, I do not know why," Helen answered truthfully. She had only seen Achilles be escorted to the hall where Priam was, and she had heard no word from the maids or nobles as to what had took place.

"I have to see my father," said Paris and he pushed past Helen.

"You can't, he's in a meeting," said Helen, and she then watched as Paris continued to walk away from her.

"I don't care," Paris whispered angrily. He quickly made his way to the hall where his father and the Elders of Troy would be, pushing past servants in his haste.

The eyes of Priam and the Elders of Troy fell on Paris as he entered the hall without admittance. They watched as the prince marched up to King Priam, leaving only a few feet between the father and son.

"Achilles … _Achilles _was here?" exclaimed Paris, panting slightly. He gritted his teeth in anger, anger at not being notified sooner, and anger that his brother's murderer had walked through the palace.

"Yes," Priam answered quietly, now understanding his son's behaviour. "He wished to speak with me."

"And you let him?" said Paris incredulously, releasing his anger onto his father in the form of words. "You let Hector's murderer in this palace?"

The Elders of Troy watched Paris and their king in silence, their eyes wide at seeing Priam spoken to in such a manner by his son.

"Yes," answered Priam, weakly. He was too tired to argue, he had lived through countless wars and battles but now his strength was declining.

"What did he want?" asked Paris, curious to hear what answer his father would give him because he could not imagine that Achilles merely came to Troy to talk, Achilles was a man who dealt death, not words.

Priam sighed heavily, fearful of how Paris would at first react until he knew everything. "He wished to ask for Polyxena's hand in marriage."

"What?" blurted Paris, confusion in his voice. "He … he doesn't even know Polyxena … he can't marry her." He looked around at the faces of the hall, looking to see if they had heard what he had, and that he was not going insane. "You did not grant his wish, did you?"

"I did," said Priam, and he opened his mouth to continue speaking but Paris interrupted him.

"You're going to let that man marry Polyxena?" snarled Paris. "After all he has done, you'll still let him marry your daughter? Have you forgotten about Hector … are you even considering Polyxena?"

Paris did not allow his father to speak; instead he showed his blood covered hands to the Elders and to his father. "This is the blood of Greeks, but it is mainly the blood of a Trojan soldier that I held in my arms!" He paused to catch his breath and look at those around him, appalled by the looks of disgust on the Elders' faces. "It is because of Achilles and his Greeks that our men die each day. Hector is dead and with him the army's spirit went also, all because of Achilles!"

"Granting Achilles's wish was the only way I could make him come to the city again without fear of assault," said Priam, as he rose from his throne. "Achilles will pay for what he has caused us, and he will pay with his life tomorrow."

Paris again looked to the elders and knew that his father spoke the truth and lowered to his knees. "I am sorry, father. Forgive me for speaking to you so harshly." And he looked up to see his father walking towards him.

"Hector would have been proud to see you fight today," said Priam and he lifted his son to his feet, "as proud as I am." He looked at his son and saw that Paris had finally passed into manhood, and that he was a man willing to defend his country.

Priam led his son to the throne beside his own and slowly lowered down into his own. He looked around to all of the Elders in the room and spoke: "Tomorrow Polyxena and I, with a selection of guards, will meet Achilles at the gates." He then turned to look at Paris. "You have shown your great worth today, my son, and I want you to be the one who kills Achilles, it is what Hector would have wanted."

Paris nodded slowly, shocked at being granted such a task. It was terrible to think that killing could be an honour, but it was to Paris, it was an honour to be chosen to kill the man who had killed his brother.

"No one should be told of this," said Solon and he looked to the other Elders for support, "if the people were to know what we have planned then they could ruin everything with their gossiping."

A gentle murmur of agreement broke out among the Elders and they turned towards their king.

"Yes, you're right," said Priam and nodded slightly. "My wife will need to be told, naturally, and Polyxena will need to know, as will Cassandra, and …,"

"And Andromache," Paris interjected, finishing his father's words.

Priam nodded. He hoped that Andromache would find some comfort when Achilles was dead; it tore at his heart to see her suffer so much. He knew how much Andromache had loved his son and understood the pain she felt, because he felt it also.

"I will tell Andromache," said Paris quietly. He felt it only right that he should be the one to tell her, after all that had happened.

* * *

Immediately after speaking with his father and washing his hands, Paris walked through the halls of the palace, heading for Andromache's chamber. He had never felt such dread or sadness in his heart until now, even though Achilles would die, it did not change that he still walked free and had come to the palace. 

Whispering servants passed Paris, no doubt speaking of how Achilles had come to the palace, but he ignored them and silently prayed that word had not reached Andromache because he knew how much it would hurt her, especially as she would not know the whole of it since no one did other than the Elders and those Priam chose to know.

Andromache's chamber door soon came into sight and Paris halted in front of it. He inhaled deeply and knocked on the door.

Xanthe soon opened the door and smiled sadly when she saw Paris. She had been instructed by Andromache not to allow admittance into the chamber to anyone and she did not like to refuse those who cared for the princess.

"Princess Andromache does not wish to see anyone, my lord," said Xanthe and made to shut the door but Paris pushed onto it.

"I have to see her," said Paris sternly, "I need to. Now allow me to enter." The tone in his voice left no room for discussion and Xanthe opened the door for him to enter.

The chamber was exactly how it had been when Hector was alive, except his robes weren't strewn around the room and there seemed no life left in it. No torches were lit, only light coming from the balcony lit the room, which added to the depressing atmosphere in the room.

Paris stepped deeper into the room and saw that Andromache was sitting out on the balcony. He saw that she did not notice him and so continued to stare at her for a few moments.

A pale yellow robe, a robe Paris could not remember seeing Andromache wear, flowed down her slender form. He stepped closer to the balcony, careful not to disturb Astyanax, who was sleeping.

"It's a lovely day," said Paris as he stepped out onto the balcony. He saw that Andromache jumped with fright and he leaned against the wall, facing her.

"How did you get in here?" Andromache asked and she turned her head to look into the chamber and saw that Xanthe had left.

"Xanthe let me in," answered Paris. He sighed and then spoke again: "Andromache, I need to talk to you."

Andromache rose to her feet. "No, please just go, Paris." She didn't want to speak to anyone; she just wanted to be alone.

"I must need to speak with you," said Paris urgently. He stepped closer to Andromache and gently pushed her down into chair.

"Why?" asked Andromache, her eyes narrowed in confusion. She tried to stand again but Paris pushed her down and knelt on one knee in front of her.

"This morning," said Paris quietly and he lowered his head so he did not have to look into Andromache's eyes, "A … Achilles came to the palace."

Confusion swept like a veil over Andromache's face. She stared at Paris, unable to speak because she didn't know what to say. Achilles to be in the palace seemed like madness to her, it didn't even seem possible for him to enter the city, let alone the palace.

"You're mistaken," Andromache said suddenly, her voice shaking slightly, "of course he wasn't in the palace, who told you this?"

"My father spoke with Achilles," replied Paris and he looked up to face Andromache, "that is why he came to the palace, to speak with my father."

"No," said Andromache firmly and she shook her head. She looked away from Paris, unable to look at the sad glances he directed at her. She inhaled deeply and pulled a mask of composure across her face.

"Why did he come?" she finally asked.

"He wishes to marry Polyxena," said Paris.

Andromache sharply turned her head to look at Paris. "He … he can't marry her, he doesn't know her … he … he killed … they can't marry." She tore her eyes away from Paris again, feeling tears creep into her eyes at the thought of speaking Hector's name.

"Achilles won't marry Polyxena," said Paris. "Father is to have Achilles killed when he comes to the city tomorrow." He deliberately did not say that he was the one that would kill Achilles, not knowing how she would react.

Andromache nodded. She was battling with her grief and so remained silent. She felt her lip begin to quiver and raised a hand to cover her mouth.

"I dreamt of Hector last night," said Paris, unsure of whether he should continue and bowed his head. He wanted to speak about Hector, but always felt constricted to do so in case he caused anyone more pain, and after a few moments he spoke on. "I was riding his horse on the beach and he was furious with me, absolutely livid."

"I'm surprised he didn't kill you," said Andromache, a faint smile widening across her face. She turned to look at Paris, even though tears were still gathered in her eyes.

"He probably would have if Helen hadn't woken me," said Paris, and he saw the smile suddenly vanish from Andromache's head and inwardly cursed himself for speaking of Helen. He knew Andromache, as almost all the women in Troy, disliked Helen.

Andromache was silent for a few moments but then chose to spoke. "I see him everywhere, he's all around me. If I try to reach out and touch him then he goes, it's as if the gods are teasing me." She looked away from Paris as she spoke, almost ashamed to have spoken of something that tortured her.

Paris laid a comforting hand on top of Andromache's.

"You should go now, Helen will be wondering where you are," said Andromache. She did not admit her envy that Helen was still able to worry for the man she loved, while she no longer had Hector to worry about because he was dead.

Paris slowly stood to his feet and left the chamber, kissing Astyanax's forehead before leaving.

Andromache closed her eyes once she finally heard her chamber door close. She exhaled deeply and clutched a hand to her mouth to block the grief that wished to pour from her. She felt so weak and exhausted with grief, exhausted at concealing her emotions.

A few moments passed and Andromache stood to her feet and entered the chamber once more. She lay beside Astyanax and softly stroked his hair, appearing to be completely content, when she was inwardly suffering so much.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm fairly certain that Achilles will die in the next chapter. And thank you for the reviews :) 

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **Thank you for the review :) I'm glad you loved the last chapter, thank you. I've not seen "Fantastic Four" but I heard it sucked too which is a shame.

**Queen Arwen (Spider) – **I'm glad you liked the last chapter, thank you and thank you for the review :) Achilles's death is in the next chapter, which I know you're looking forward to ;)

**Kitera – **I'm glad you liked the long chapter, thank you and thank you for the review! And I'm glad you loved the last chapter, thanks :)

**Psalm 136 – **Thank you for the review! I'm glad that Achilles character is believable for you, it was a big thing I was worried about, and I'm really glad that you like this, thank you :)


	56. Chapter 56

Polyxena stood out on her balcony, watching the stars twinkle in the brilliant night sky. She wore a simple night gown and shivered with delight as the cold wind caressed her skin.

Thoughts swept through her mind, mainly those of Achilles and her imminent marriage to him. She hated herself for ever seeing him, for ever helping him, and for ever laying with him. She felt as if her body had suddenly become tainted because of what she had done and had spent most of the evening trying to wash the feeling of Achilles away.

_For Troy_, Polyxena would whisper in her mind, _for Troy_. It was the only thought that kept her going, even though she felt a ferocious desire to leap to her death every time she thought of being Achilles's wife.

The door to Polyxena's chamber opened quietly and Hecuba entered the room alone. No tears rushed down her pale cheeks, and her eyes were no longer bloodshot with exhaustion and sorrow, instead her queenly composure had been restored to her.

Hecuba stood by the door and watched her daughter for a few moments, so proud that Polyxena would willingly marry Achilles to save her country. She had come to tell her brave daughter that she would no longer marry Achilles as a plan had been formed to prevent that.

Polyxena slowly turned around at the sound of her door closing and smiled faintly when she saw it was her mother. She saw her mother's eyes move to look at the bridal gown which had been brought to her by her handmaidens.

"Your handmaidens brought you this?" asked Hecuba, surprise in her voice, and she gestured to the gown. She fondly remembered help make the magnificent robe, only a few years past when a prince from another land had wished to marry Polyxena, but the match had not taken place as Agamemnon threatened the prince's country if he married a Trojan princess.

"Yes," Polyxena softly answered, "I wished to try it on before tomorrow."

Hecuba looked at her daughter, feeling as if she had failed as a mother because Polyxena would have to have married Achilles if another plan had not been formed. She blinked tears away and pushed back the hair on Polyxena's face.

"I'm so proud of you," whispered Hecuba and she smiled sadly. "You have made your country proud by accepting to marry Achilles, but you don't have to now, you don't have to marry Achilles." She smiled more brightly as she finished her words, expecting to see joy on Polyxena's face but all she could see was shock.

"I do not have to marry him?" said Polyxena, her voice slightly high. She stepped back from her mother for air and looked to the bridal gown.

"No," said Hecuba, "your father has found another way to end the war."

Polyxena closed her eyes for a moment to keep her tears of happiness at bay, now that she had accepted that she would not have to marry Achilles. She then turned to her mother, seriousness beginning to cloud her face.

"What way has father found?" asked Polyxena, her voice hoarse. She had thought the only way for the war to end was by marring Achilles, since the army had dwindled so dramatically over the years and now that Hector was dead.

Hecuba was at first hesitant to speak, unsure of how to word or even say the truth. She looked at her daughter and saw the anxiety in her eyes and spoke: "Achilles is to be killed tomorrow when he comes to collect you as his bride. Your father and the Elders think that the war could end favorably to Troy if Achilles was dead."

Polyxena shook her head slowly, horror flooding into her eyes. "The Greek armies will still continue to fight us, even if Achilles is killed. They would probably be more adamant to sack our city if …," She then paused, wondering who would be given the _honour_ of killing Achilles.

"Who is going to kill Achilles?" stuttered Polyxena. She doubted any man in Troy could kill Achilles now that Hector was dead, and her fear grew.

"Paris," answered Hecuba and her voice showed the doubt she felt at whether or not her son could kill Achilles.

If the matter had not been so serious then Polyxena would have laughed. She looked at her mother, her eyes holding an almost mad gaze. "Paris can't, he won't be able to kill Achilles! Hector was the greatest warrior in all of Troy and he could not defeat Achilles, how can anyone think that Paris could kill him?"

"Achilles will not be prepared," stammered Hecuba, "it is more than possible for Paris to kill Achilles."

"Possible?" cried Polyxena, she breathed in heavily and glared at her mother. "Possibilities will not end the war, certainty is what will! If Paris tries to kill him and fails then Achilles will be given more than enough reason to slaughter everyone of us."

Hecuba looked at Polyxena for a few moments and knew that her daughter spoke the truth. She inwardly prayed to the gods for victory tomorrow and embraced her daughter.

Polyxena clung onto her mother and allowed tears to drip from her eyes and onto Hecuba's shoulder. She knew the power within Achilles, the burning rage which he held within him, and feared that he would turn that rage onto her family once more if Paris did not succeed.

* * *

Dawn crept up upon Troy the next morning and showered her light over Troy. Achilles left his tent at first light, not having slept at all because he was filled with excitement and joy at the prospect of marring Polyxena. 

Although, it was not only light spirits that flowed through Achilles as he walked to Odysseus's tent, it was also the feeling of uncontrollable anxiety and nerves. He had never felt nervous in all his life, not even in battle or when charming women, because he knew he had power and used it to his advantage. Today, however, he felt completely helpless because he could not choose whether the Kings of the Aegean would continue to fight or not.

Achilles's eyes squinted at the darkness in Odysseus's tent as he entered, only one dim torch was lit and it produced little light. He immediately saw Odysseus gazing at him with a questioning glance.

"What's wrong?" asked Odysseus and suddenly stood from his chair. He could sense that something important occupied Achilles's mind and was unnerved by it.

"Nothing is wrong, my friend," said Achilles calmly and motioned for Odysseus to sit once more. "I only came to speak with you, to ask for your advice before …,"

"Before what?" inquired Odysseus, and slowly sunk into his chair. He watched Achilles carefully, waiting for an answer.

"Before I speak with Agamemnon," replied Achilles. He fidgeted nervously with a small wooden horse that stood on the chest beside him.

"Why are you going to speak with Agamemnon?" Odysseus asked, concealing his curiosity by sounding casual.

"I need to ask him to end the war," said Achilles quietly and deliberately fixed his eyes on the horse and not on Odysseus. He could almost feel the low gasp which escaped Odysseus's mouth.

Confusion hovered over Odysseus's face as he looked at Achilles. He knew when Achilles was lying and knew that he wasn't now, and rubbed his chin nervously. "End the war? You wish for the war to end, even though it would mean that hundreds of lives, including Patroclus's, will have been for nothing if we left now?"

"Thousands more will die if the war continues," said Achilles sharply. He did not want to be reminded of Patroclus's death today, not on the day he would be marrying Polyxena.

"By the gods, Achilles!" exclaimed Odysseus and he quickly rose to his feet. "Agamemnon, nor I or any other king on this shore, has spent ten years here to leave without winning!"

"No one will win," said Achilles and he faced Odysseus, anger flashing across his face, "the war will have ended in mutual agreement."

Odysseus shook his head, dismissing the stupid thought. He knew if the Kings of the Aegean were to step away from this war now then it would only invite more nations to invade their countries when they returned. He would not risk the lives of his people, he was a king and had sworn defend and protect his city from all danger, even if it meant destroying another.

"Why do you want the war to end?" questioned Odysseus after a few moments of silent thought.

Achilles looked away from his friend again before speaking. "I am going to marry … Princess Polyxena of Troy." He felt the eyes of Odysseus glare madly at him and he closed his own eyes for a moment.

"Priam's daughter?" cried Odysseus. "How can you even marry her when you've never been to Troy?"

"I have," answered Achilles, his voice low. He did not want to reveal how he had entered Troy as it would prove to be an advantage to Greece and he not could jeopardize his marriage to Polyxena.

"How?" asked Odysseus. "How did you enter Troy?"

"How, indeed?" asked the voice of Agamemnon. He stood at the entrance to the tent, his brother Menelaus behind him, and glared at both Odysseus and Achilles.

Fear engulfed Odysseus as he looked at Agamemnon; he had not even heard the king enter his tent.

"I asked to see King Priam at the gates," lied Achilles and stared into the eyes of Agamemnon.

"And they just let you enter?" asked Agamemnon skeptically. He could not believe that Achilles had been allowed admittance into Troy after killing their heir and protector, Hector.

"Yes," said Achilles simply, acting as if a Greek entered Troy each day by merely asking to.

Agamemnon stared at Achilles, a slight smirk playing across his lips. The light in the room illuminated his dark eyes to make them appear possessed. Greed and power had made him the man he was today, he would do anything for power and wealth, proving that to each King of the Aegean by sacrificing his daughter to the Goddess Artemis.

"Did you see Helen?" whispered Menelaus and looked hopefully at Achilles. He had dreamed of climbing Troy's walls to see Helen again, to see her perfect face and to feel her delicate lips against his own. The thought of seeing her again was what kept him fighting.

"No," said Achilles and he looked away from Menelaus's eyes because he had seen her. He was unsettled by Menelaus's, seemingly, hopeless wish to see Helen again because he knew that even if he did see her again, she would never love him like he wanted her to.

"Priam will allow you to marry his daughter, even though you killed his son?" asked Agamemnon. He searched Achilles's eyes for a trace of deceit but saw none in those confident eyes.

"Yes," said Achilles, "as long as the war ends and our men return to Greece."

"I did not come to Troy to lose!" snarled Agamemnon, his anger beginning to blaze.

"Instead of considering this war a game," said Achilles angrily, though attempted to speak calmly, "think of the lives you could safe, the lives of your men! If we leave now then you could unite with Troy, think of the power you could have if you walked away from this."

Agamemnon did not say that he would have more power if he defeated Troy, as he had quickly thought of a cunning plan that could benefit his need of winning the war. "Can you guarantee that a pact between Troy and Greece could be made, _if_ we ended the war?"

"Yes," answered Achilles, his voice showing his doubt. He did not know if Priam would agree to a pact, but hoped that the king would if it resulted in saving the lives of his people.

Agamemnon was silent for a few moments, surveying Achilles with his dark eyes. He had sensed the uncertainty in Achilles's voice; it was a skill he had learned through years of torturing his enemies into giving him information, and inwardly smiled at how Achilles's confidence had quickly faded.

"You may claim your bride," said Agamemnon, speaking slowly and firmly. "Tell King Priam that we agree to leave his shores by tomorrow, and discussions of a treaty will begin once I've returned to Mycenae."

"Agamemnon!" warned Menelaus, his tone unusually annoyed. He had come to Troy to get Helen, he would not leave it without her and let Prince Paris think he could steal her from him without retribution being served upon him.

Odysseus watched the scene before him, he could see by the sudden look of superiority in Agamemnon's eyes that the king had thought of something that could aid him by Achilles going to Troy with word that Greece would leave. He had known Agamemnon for many years, their father's had known one another, and Odysseus knew that Agamemnon was not a man who would leave a war for the sake of saving lives or making a pact when there was more power to be gained by winning the war.

"Menelaus," said Agamemnon, his voice low and deadly, and he turned to his brother, "I hope you are not planning to interfere."

Menelaus was silent, although he glared at his brother with the deepest loathing and hatred.

Achilles stepped closer to Agamemnon, fully believing Agamemnon's words to him. "Thank you, King Agamemnon." He smiled faintly and left the tent, his spirits soaring up into the sky.

Once the flaps of his tent had stopped moving, Odysseus turned to Agamemnon, a look of worry and curiosity rapidly spreading across his face. "I cannot believe that you'll simply leave Troy without defeating it, what plan have you made?"

Agamemnon smiled, he knew the quick witted Odysseus would have sensed a plan. "I knew you would not fall for my words to Achilles, unlike my dear brother." And he gave Menelaus a look of revulsion.

"I have known you for years, Agamemnon," said Odysseus, although he did not smile, "I should be expected to know when you are lying."

"What plan do you have then?" asked Menelaus, his voice full of hatred for Agamemnon. He resisted the overwhelming urge to strike his brother and tried to gain control of his anger.

"Achilles will have his wife," said Agamemnon and he looked across to the flaps of the tent, a distant expression flooding into his eyes, "and we will remain in Troy. I have made no official arrangement to leave this war with King Priam, nor will I ever."

"King Priam will have given his daughter to Achilles for nothing," said Odysseus, his face unreadable.

"Yes, and he will be devastated," smirked Agamemnon, "not only will he have lost his son to Achilles, but also his daughter."

"What if Achilles swears allegiance to Troy?" asked Odysseus, the thought suddenly occurring to him. "He may feel guilt for not doing what Priam had asked him to in order to marry his daughter."

Agamemnon laughed, a cruel and malicious laugh. "Achilles feel guilt? It's not possible for that man to feel even one strand of remorse for the lives he has taken, that is what makes him a great warrior. He cannot _feel_."

Odysseus said nothing, although he was not reassured of his fears. He had seen a sudden change in Achilles over the last few days, no doubt because of Priam's daughter now he thought of it, and he did not like to think how Achilles would react once he learned Agamemnon had lied to him.

* * *

At first sign of daylight, Polyxena rose and took her nuptial bath before allowing her handmaidens to help her prepare. Even though she was not to be married to Achilles, she was still ordered by her father to follow the marriage rituals and dress in her bridal robe, so Achilles would not be suspicious and the gods would not be angered. 

A thin veil covered Polyxena's face, a veil that symbolized her virginity. She had frozen when one of her handmaidens had told her that she would feel little pain when lying with Achilles, since she had already lain with him and Nickolas. She was horrified at the thought of her father learning of what she had done, she thought herself little better than a whore as the veil brushed against her cheeks.

No tears rushed from her eyes as the beautiful bridal gown flowed over her body like water. The thought of what Achilles had done, that he had killed her brother and shattered hundreds of Trojans' lives kept her from weeping because she felt that his death would result in the end of the war.

The door to Polyxena's chamber opened as the handmaidens were preparing her hair. She looked up to see, not Hecuba who she had expected, but Andromache.

A weight suddenly felt as if it had been dropped into Polyxena's stomach when she saw her sister-in-law. She had not seen Andromache since Hector's funeral and dreaded to think how she would react with her now.

"Leave us," said Andromache, ordering the handmaidens to leave. Once they had left she sat at the end of Polyxena's bed.

Polyxena smiled faintly, imagining Andromache as a Queen of Troy. _She would have been a magnificent queen_, thought Polyxena.

"I did not come to scream or yell," Andromache said seriously, "I only came to speak with you before you left for the gates." She looked at the exquisite bridal gown Polyxena wore and smiled, remembering the day she had married Hector.

"I am sorry if what I did at Hector's funeral saddened you," said Polyxena quietly, she knew Andromache had been told by Hecuba that Achilles had been at the funeral, "I did not mean to cause you or anyone else harm."

"I know," said Andromache and she continued to look at Polyxena thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "Do you love him, Polyxena? Do you love _Achilles_?"

Polyxena turned away from Andromache, surprised by the question, and bowed her head while she thought. She did not know how to answer her friend, but finally chose to speak the truth.

"I thought I did," she said slowly, "but I know now that I didn't, my mind was confused." She inhaled deeply and spoke again. "When I first saw him I thought it was Nickolas, I know that sounds silly but I did, and that is what drew me to him."

"Hector would have been proud of you," said Andromache and smiled sadly. "You would have put your people before yourself in marrying Achilles."

"Do you want Achilles to die?" Polyxena asked suddenly.

"If it means the war will end, then yes," Andromache finally answered, "but if you ask because he killed … Hector, then no." She was silent for a moment, staring at the floor. "I wanted nothing more than to rip Achilles apart with my own bare hands after he had killed Hector, but not now. I know nothing will ever bring Hector back to me, not even Achilles's death."

"You would have made a wonderful queen, Andromache," said Polyxena and smiled.

* * *

The city was filled with a deathly silence as Priam and Polyxena rode to the walls of Troy on a shared chariot. Priam, clothed in his finest robes, had ordered for every Trojan to remain in their homes because he did not want to risk his people crowding around Achilles. He also did not want to intimidate Achilles by being surrounded by hundreds of guards, so had chosen only two to accompany him to the gates. 

Paris had gone to the walls alone earlier that day and waited at the armory beside the walls. He was fully dressed in his glittering armor and sharpened his sword to occupy his mind, even though he would be using his bow to attempt to kill Achilles as he was more skilled with it.

As soon as Priam and Polyxena arrived at the gates, Priam stepped off the chariot and then helped his daughter. Their two guards stood behind them and Priam held his daughters hand as they waited for Achilles.

A cloud of sand was surrounding a man as he rode to the walls; the plain was clear as the day's fighting had not begun. Each soldier on the walls knew it was Achilles and called for the gates to be opened.

Achilles rode through the gates calmly and steadied his horse before dismounting and handing it to the nearest soldier. He smiled when he saw Priam and Polyxena and stepped forward to greet them, stepping out from the shadow of the gate sometimes known as the Scaean gate.

Seeing Achilles enter the city, Paris left the armory and stood with the guards who were slowly closing the gates. He glared at Achilles with the desire for revenge beginning to burn within him, and waited for the signal.

"King Priam," greeted Achilles and he bowed before the king. He then turned to Polyxena and lightly kissed her hand before stepping back into the light shadow of the gate.

"The Kings of the Aegean have agreed to leave Troy tomorrow," said Achilles, trying to suppress a smile of joy on his face.

"Well done, Achilles," said Priam, his voice low and stern. He did not smile at the news, although he was surprised Achilles had succeeded.

"Thank you," said Achilles, noticing the king's odd tone. He looked to Polyxena and saw the cold and distant look she gave him.

Priam nodded, although it was not in reply to Achilles's words, it was the signal for Paris to aim.

Paris stepped forward as quietly as possible, determined not to be heard by Achilles, and aimed his arrow at Achilles's back. He breathed in steadily as he made certain that his arrow was in line and that it would meet his target.

The arrow flew from Paris's arrow and for a second it appeared that it would hit Achilles's back, but it suddenly changed direction, even though there was no wind, and it swooped down and pierced into Achilles's heel.

Polyxena flinched when she heard the arrow hit Achilles and closed her eyes, not wishing to see him suffer. She slowly opened her eyes, fearing what she would see, and saw that Achilles was staggering to stand.

Achilles gritted his teeth in pain and looked to Polyxena, expecting her to run and help him, but instead he saw only shock and guilt spreading across her face and it was then he knew. He turned to look behind him and saw Paris standing with a bow clenched in his hand.

It had been a ploy to kill him, Achilles realised, and he looked once more at Polyxena, feeling not only the blood drain from him, but his heart breaking also. He had loved her and even if he had only known her for a few days, he had known that he had loved her more than anyone before.

"You shameless whore," Achilles snarled, looking directly at Polyxena. He staggered once more on his feet, as if he were drunk, and tried to grip onto the wall beside him.

Polyxena closed her eyes in pain and felt tears begin to run down her cold face. She suddenly opened them once more and stared into Achilles's eyes, it was then that her body froze.

Within Achilles's eyes, Polyxena could see her death. She could see flames engulf her body on the shores of Troy while screams from women and children echoed throughout the plain.

Each guard looked at Achilles with shock spreading widely across their faces as they watched him sink down to the floor. They had never expected Paris to kill Achilles, let alone kill him with one shot at the heel.

Polyxena watched from where she stood, her eyes wide and filled with horror, as Achilles closed his eyes and finally succumbed to death. She soon turned away and returned to the palace, no longer able to look at the body of Achilles.

It was said that when Achilles was born, his mother Thetis wished to make him immortal and so she dipped him into the river Styx. Everything the sacred waters touched become invincible, but because Thetis held Achilles by his heel as she dipped him into the water, his heel remained dry and therefore vulnerable…

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry to those who like Achilles that I killed him, but his death is significant to the events which will take place in the coming chapters. His death almost begins the end of the war, but not in a good way… Thank you for all of the reviews :) 

**Queen Arwen – **I hope you enjoyed Achilles's death, I know you've been looking forward to it ;) Thank you for the review and I'm really glad you liked the last chapter!

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **Thank you for the review and I'm really glad you liked the last chapter and loved Paris's anger, thanks :) It is a shame that the film isn't good, especially considering the actors in it, never mind :(

**Kitera – **I'm really glad you liked the last chapter and thank for the review :)

**Gaby –** Polyxena doesn't do anything to stop Paris because she does not love Achilles and she feels it's the only way for the war to end, I hope that makes sense. Thank you for the review and I'm glad you liked the last chapter :)

**Lily – **I'm afraid I have killed Achilles as it's essential to what will happen in this story, I'm sorry :( Thank you for the review :)

**Idun03 – **Thank you for the review :) I'm afraid, despite not deserving the honour; Paris did Achilles as I'm sticking to the myth, but it was tempting to have Andromache kill him ;)

**meitsiwong36 – **At the beginning Polyxena saw Nickolas in Achilles which drew her to him. What I've tried to say, is that Polyxena was forced to love Achilles (although she doesn't know it) by the gods, and that once the gods no longer forced her to, she no longer loved him, but Achilles still continued to love her. I'm sorry if that is still confusing. Thank you for the review :)

**Caz – **I'm sorry I'm leaving you in suspense, but the chapters will hopefully come out a little quicker now. This is my first ever fanfic, it's the first thing I've actually wrote and allowed people to read other than family. Thank you for the lovely compliment and I'm really glad you like this, and thank you for the review :)


	57. Chapter 57

A blood red colour mixed with deep oranges and purples filled the sky that afternoon, on the day of Achilles's death. His body had been taken to the Greeks, who were shocked and distraught at the sight, by a selection of soldiers who only said that Prince Paris had killed him.

"Priam gave no word as to why Achilles was killed?" asked Agamemnon, as he sat in his tent surrounded by Kings of the Aegean and various other men. He was stunned by the news of Achilles's death, even more so when he heard that Paris had killed him with one shot to the heel. "I thought he was supposed to marry Priam's daughter, why did Paris kill him if that was already planned?"

"Achilles _was_ supposed to marry Princess Polyxena, or so he thought," answered Odysseus quietly. The news of his friend's death had shaken him greatly. "Priam most likely lied to Achilles so he would go to the city again, to be killed."

"With Achilles gone, how can we be expected to win the war?" asked Philoctetes. He had only joined the war alongside the Greeks three years ago. A snake bite had prevented him from coming sooner as it had been incurable at the time, but was now healed.

"We will win this war!" exclaimed Agamemnon, determinedly, and he hammered his clenched fist down onto the arm of his throne. He panted heavily, furious with Priam's ploy to lure Achilles to Troy so he could be killed.

"How?" asked Odysseus and studied Agamemnon carefully.

"The Trojans no longer have Hector, and their army is dwindling day by day!" replied Agamemnon. He sighed heavily, sunk back into his throne and massaged his temple.

"Troy is protected by their walls," said Odysseus, "which has always been a great advantage to them. Even if their army is decreasing, so are _our _armies. The Trojans can still hide within their walls, we cannot."

"We will not fight for seventeen days," said Agamemnon after a few moments of thought, "instead we will have the funeral games for Achilles. But after that we will continue to fight until we find a way to break into Troy's walls and finish this war once and for all."

A chorus of agreement broke out among the men surrounding Agamemnon, though all of them were doubtful that they could ever invade Troy as its walls could not be breached, and they could think of no way for their armies to enter Troy.

That night, under a blanket of twinkling stars, Achilles's body was burned. The Kings of the Aegean gathered around the great pyre, along with their soldiers, and watched as the fire consumed their greatest warrior.

Once Achilles's body was burned, his ashes were gathered by Eudorus and mixed into a golden urn that held Patroclus's ashes, and then the urn was buried in the White Island.

* * *

A young boy, no older than thirteen, journeyed from his home on Mount Ida, where he lived with his mother Oenone, and headed towards Troy. His name was Corythus and he had been told stories of his father, the Prince of Troy, for years but only now dared to slip away from tending his sheep, without telling his mother, to go to the great city where his father lived. 

He had no expectations of his father being a perfect man whom he could idolize, because he had already heard countless tales, from gossiping women, of how he bedded different women each night and his involvement in the war with Greece.

Corythus had only seen his father once in a village on Mount Ida, and despite his faults he had dreamt of seeing him again for years, ever since he had been told by his mother he was the son of a prince. He was excited to study his father and see if he looked like him, as he had only seen him briefly and from a distance, and whether or not they shared the same eyes and nose or any other feature.

His mother had only spoken of Corythus's father once, and that was to tell him that Prince Paris of Troy was his father. She only replied with one word when her son asked her questions about Paris, or did not answer at all because the pain at leaving him still tore at her heart, especially as Corythus was growing to look and act like Paris more and more, and less like her.

Oenone had gone to Troy, years ago when Paris was in Sparta. She was pregnant with Corythus then, which she had not foreseen, and she wished to tell him. Hecuba had sent her away, claiming that Paris would not care if he had a child with her or not, and so Oenone went to Mount Ida, the place she had grew up and where she wished her child to grow.

There was no fighting on the plain that day, the Greeks still mourned for Achilles and were holding funeral games, so the Trojans that had come out from their walls to gather food and wood, were now heading back into the city as it was getting dark.

It was easy for Corythus to enter the city, the gates were open for those who gathered food and timber, and no one questioned him. He walked through the city, marveling at the great city of Troy. He had seen Troy from the distance, but had never stood so close to the walls that still sparkled like gold despite the war, or the beautiful statues of gods and goddesses.

Noticing the palace of Troy as he walked through the courtyard, Corythus headed towards it, gasping at the magnificent sight. He walked quickly now he had seen the palace, his breath quickening with excitement.

* * *

Night had slowly fallen over Troy and Helen sat in her chamber, working at her loom. She brushed the sweat from her forehead in frustration and sighed heavily. She looked out to the balcony and rose from her chair and stepped out onto it, wishing to feel the night air against her face. 

The door to the chamber opened and Paris entered; sweat trickling from his brow also. He had been in a meeting with his father and the Elders, which had occupied most of the day for him.

Paris saw Helen out on the balcony and walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, wishing to receive comfort from her as he still felt shock after killing Achilles. He did not feel regret for killing him, instead he felt shock, incredible shock that he had killed the great warrior Achilles.

Helen turned her head slightly and kissed Paris's lips softly.

"It feels as if a dark cloud over Troy has gone, now that Achilles is dead," said Helen once she withdrew her lips from Paris's.

"Yes," murmured Paris in agreement.

Corythus, hiding in the garden of Troy below Helen and Paris's balcony, watched as his father kissed the woman he knew to be Helen. He had heard tales of Helen's beauty, but did not find her worthy of such beauty because he knew she had left her daughter in Sparta and had started a war.

The young boy had gone to the guards at the palace entrance but they had laughed at him when he asked to see his father, Prince Paris. He waited though, even though darkness was falling around him and his mother would be frantic with worry, until the guards were not looking and had rushed into the stables and found himself in the garden, where he was now.

He finally decided to see his father now and entered the palace and searched for his chamber, a vague idea of where it would be after seeing the balcony to it.

A quiet knock to Helen and Paris's chamber sounded and Paris ordered the person to enter, it was a servant.

"Your father wishes to see you in his chamber now," said the servant, after bowing in front of Helen and Paris, "he wishes to discuss the battle tomorrow."

"Very well," Paris sighed, now understanding how his brother must have felt at being called from his chamber to discuss battle at various hours of the day. He kissed Helen goodbye and made to leave with the servant when Helen called to him.

"Distinguish the torches before you leave, my love," said Helen, "I'm going to bed as my head aches from the heat."

Paris nodded and extinguished all of the fires before leaving the chamber.

Helen walked over to her bed, without changing into her night robe, and crept into it. She felt completely exhausted and pulled the sheets over her and waited for sleep to come.

Sleep had almost consumed Helen when she heard the door to her chamber open, but as she expected it to be Paris, she kept her eyes closed and continued to try and sleep. She heard, who she thought was him, stumble into a chair and immediately sat up in the bed.

"Paris?" whispered Helen, but as she narrowed her eyes to see in the darkness of the room, she saw it was not Paris.

"Where is my father?" asked a voice, causing Helen to jump in fright.

Helen could see, with the moon as her only light, a large shadow against the wall belonging to a young boy. She reached for Paris's small knife that he kept beside their bed and clenched it within her hand.

"Where is my father?" repeated the voice of Corythus.

"Who is your father?" asked Helen, inwardly dreading the answer.

"Paris of Troy," he answered.

Helen closed her eyes for a few minutes, hoping that if she opened her eyes the child in front of her would be gone. She opened them once more and saw the boy still there and noticed how tall he was, yet he had a child-like face.

"Paris?" whispered Helen hoarsely and stepped out of the bed. She looked at the boy, her eyes wide at how alike to Paris he looked, he shared the same hair, the same mouth and nose, but his eyes were different from Paris's. "Paris has no son, he has no children." She saw the boy walk towards her, barely able to see his face now in the darkness, and stepped back.

"I saw him!" cried Corythus. "I saw my father on the balcony! Where is he, why won't you let me see him?"

"Paris is not here," said Helen hastily, making it sound as if she were lying even though she wasn't. She pressed her back up against the war, breathing heavily.

Corythus stopped, leaving barely any space between him and Helen. "I need to see him, let me see him, please." He grabbed onto Helen's hand gently, wanting her to look at him and not avoid his pleading eyes.

Helen screamed at the touch and tried to push past Corythus but he would not let her.

"I have to see him," said Corythus urgently, "I won't allow you to pass until you let me see him." He felt as if Helen was hiding Paris from him deliberately and felt tears seep into his eyes.

On his way back to his chamber after forgetting the recent battle plans, Paris heard a scream coming from his room and instantly knew it was Helen. He raced to his room, withdrawing a small knife from its sheath at his side as he had no sword.

The sight of Helen cowering against the wall in their chamber greeted Paris as he entered. He saw what appeared to be a man in the darkness, although it was only a young boy, shouting at Helen.

Paris quickly pulled the man off Helen, not even looking at the boy who was his son, and he tried to restrain him from squirming in his hands. And then, as if the gods had taken control of his hand, Paris felt the knife slip from his hand and strike into the person's stomach.

The knife, still in Paris's hand, slipped from it, causing a loud clatter to echo around the room as it dropped onto the floor. Corythus fell to the cold floor on his back and looked up to Paris. Paris stepped back, suddenly seeing Corythus's face as he lay on the floor.

"Father?" moaned Corythus, the colour rapidly fading from his face. He coughed up blood and felt it trickle down his chin.

Paris shook his head madly, the eyes he had fallen in love with staring back at him, the eyes of Oenone on his son's face. He stepped back again, shaking madly, and tried to grip onto the bed for support but instead he sunk down to the floor.

In a few minutes Corythus's eyes had closed, his life taken away from him by his father. He wore an expression of contentment as he lay on the floor, and if the blood did not surround him then he would have appeared to be asleep.

"Oh gods," stuttered Paris and he looked at his son, his eyes wide with shock. He crawled over to his son, his son that looked so much like Oenone.

"He was your son?" cried Helen. "You had a son and did not tell me?"

"I did not know!" yelled Paris and he turned his head to look at Helen, hatred flooding over his face. "Do you think I would have killed … _my son_ if I had known who he was?"

Helen shook her head slowly, her heart finally crumbling to a thousand pieces. It was then that she knew, she _really_ knew, that Paris did not love her and she returned the knife she held to its place beside their bed and left the room.

Paris carefully picked his son into his arms, tears freely streaming down his ghost-like face. He embraced the son he had never known, the son he had killed…

* * *

**A/N: **I've planned for some time that Corythus would be in this and that Paris would kill him, which actually happened in the myth, and I did mention that Oenone's stomach swelled (I was suggesting that she was pregnant at the time) in chapter 33 but not to great detail. 

In the myth it is said that Paris killed his son because Corythus was attracted to Helen and Helen actually liked him in return which made Paris jealous. So I've changed it quite a bit, but the main thing is that Paris kills his son which I've obviously not changed. Thank you for all of the reviews :)

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you for the review :) I'm glad you liked the last chapter and the imaginary; I knew you would enjoy Achilles's death ;)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **I'm glad you loved the last chapter, thank you :) Thank you for the review too, and I'm glad that you agree with Polyxena about Andromache being a good queen.

**Kitera – **Thank you for the review :) I'm glad you still liked the last chapter even though Achilles died in the way that he did. And I'm glad you liked the imaginary too, thank you!

**Caz – **Helen makes me mad at times too. Thank you for the review :) I'm glad you liked the last chapter, thanks!

**WriteAway – **I'm glad you like the recent chapters, thanks :) I'm also glad that the story is good despite the sadness in it, thank you and thank you for the review!


	58. Chapter 58

An odd and eerie silence filled Troy the next morning, the day after Corythus had died by his father's knife. The sun barely rose in the dark sky and it showered little light over those Trojans who left their homes to take advantage of the next sixteen days when there would be no fighting.

As Helen did not return to their chamber that night, Paris was left with the body of his son. He sat there all night, cradling his son's body and sitting in his blood, until dawn came and then he left his chamber.

He walked through the palace, blood spread over his hands and robe, but he spoke to no one, even though they questioned him, until he reached Andromache's chamber. He hammered his blood covered hand on her door, and was surprised at how quickly she answered.

"Paris?" said Andromache, opening the door slightly, still dressed in her night robe. Her eyes wandered over Paris and she gasped at the sight of blood. "What's happened? Whose … _whose_ blood is that?"

"I didn't know it was him," stuttered Paris, his eyes heavily bloodshot. "I didn't even know he existed, how could I have known? Why didn't she tell me?"

"Who existed, Paris?" asked Andromache and stepped out of the chamber, closing the door behind her so Astyanax would not wake.

"My son!" cried Paris, angry that Andromache did not understand what he was saying. "My son is dead, Andromache, _dead_!" He then sunk down to the floor and burst into a fit of tears.

"Oenone?" Andromache whispered to herself, and she suddenly remembered, years ago, when Oenone had come to Troy when Paris was in Sparta. She could see the image clearly in her mind of Oenone crying at Hecuba's feet, and how her stomach … how her stomach had swelled.

Andromache crouched down beside Paris and held his head against her chest, and he clung onto her.

"Paris," she said calmly, although she did not feel calm, "where is he, where is your son?" She looked down to Paris for an answer and saw he was trying to gain control over his tears.

"In my chamber," mumbled Paris as tears slipped past his lips. He then looked up to Andromache, desperate for her to believe that he didn't know it was his son. "I didn't know who he was, Andromache, I didn't know."

"I know," said Andromache quietly. She stood to her feet, noticing how the blood now stained her robe also, and helped Paris to his. "I'll come with you now, Paris, to see him, but first I need to get Astyanax's nurse." She left Paris standing outside her chamber, and went to collect the nurse before leaving with Paris to his chamber.

Paris led Andromache to his chamber, clasping onto her hand for support so he would not fall as he felt faint. He ignored the looks of the servants, surprised that one of them had not notified his father, and they finally reached the chamber.

Andromache entered Paris's chamber, seeing everything in its rightful place, however, as she looked across to the far side of the room she saw something that did not belong … a child's body.

Sickness rushed up Andromache's throat when she saw Corythus on the floor, but she swallowed it back down which caused a burning sensation to erupt in her mouth. She stared at the boy, shock sweeping over her face. She had believed Paris, his appearance did not lie, but she was still stunned to see a young boy lying on the floor, dead.

"What am I going to do?" asked Paris, as he stared at his son. He had never felt a stronger urge to turn back time and change his actions, not even when he had brought Helen to Troy.

Andromache was silent for a few moments, staring at the body. She finally tore her eyes away from the awful sight and turned to Paris. "Oenone must be told, she may not even know that he had come, and will not know … what has happened."

"Even after all these years," whispered Paris, almost as if he were speaking to himself, "I still … love her and now I've destroyed our child."

"You didn't know it was him," said Andromache and rested her hand on Paris's shoulder. She looked again to the boy and imagined Astyanax lying there, and she knew that there would be no words which would prove to be a comfort to Oenone when she learned what had happened.

Corythus's body was taken to Oenone on Mount Ida by soldiers of Troy. Paris did not go with them; he could not bear to look at Oenone after their years apart to only tell her that he had killed their son.

Paris was stunned into silence once Corythus's body was taken to Oenone; he sat in his chamber alone and glared at the blood stained floor which, despite vigorous cleaning from the servants, could not be cleaned.

Helen refused to enter the chamber after what had happened, and as the blood would forever stain the floor she was moved to another chamber, but Paris did not follow her for a few days. Even when he did return to Helen, he was distant with her and barely spoke a word.

* * *

Thoughts had been bothering Andromache since Paris had told her what he had done, and so she walked through the palace halls to her mother-in-law's chamber where she hoped she would find her answers.

She knocked lightly on the door, her bracelets rattling against one another as she did, and waited until a servant admitted her into the chamber.

Sweltering heat and the scent of burning oils greeted Andromache as she entered Hecuba's chamber, she looked to see a fire crackling to the side of her and was surprised her mother-in-law could be cold when the day was so hot.

Hecuba sat in a chair at the far side of the room, handmaidens sitting at either side of her, and looked directly at Andromache. A thoughtful gaze clouded the queen's eyes as she looked at her daughter-in-law, reading her thoughts.

"You may leave us," said Hecuba to her handmaidens, her eyes fixed on Andromache. Her handmaidens obeyed her without question and left the room silently.

"You have come to talk about Oenone, I presume?" asked Hecuba quietly. She had heard the news that Paris had killed his son, and felt enormous guilt sweep through her because she could have prevented it.

"Yes," said Andromache, surprised that Hecuba knew. She sat down in the chair Hecuba gestured to, before speaking again. "I remember seeing Oenone with you when Paris was in Sparta. Did you know she was with child then, is that why she came?"

Hecuba was silent for a few moments, choosing her words. "I knew Oenone was with Paris's child, she told me." She then sighed quietly and sipped some of her watered wine before continuing. "I told her to go away, I thought that Paris would not care if he had a son or not."

Andromache looked at her mother-in-law and saw how tortured she was by her actions.

"When Paris returned home with Helen," said Hecuba, clasping the goblet of wine in her hand, "I tried to find Oenone, thinking that Paris could marry her and Helen could return to Sparta, but she was not to be found in the forest where she and Paris met."

"Did you not think to look elsewhere?" asked Andromache angrily, her curiosity becoming the better of her.

"I did send people to look elsewhere," answered Hecuba, "but I could not send people to look forever, not when Troy was at war."

"Of course," said Andromache quietly, she knew people could not be spared to look for a woman when there was war at their gates.

"What is done is done," said Hecuba sadly, tracing her finger along the rim of the goblet, "and no amount of prayers or tears will change that."

Andromache nodded, already knowing the bitterness of Hecuba's words. She still bore the torment of Hector's death, she yearned for him each day, and even though Achilles was dead, he would not come back to her.

"How is Astyanax?" asked Hecuba suddenly.

"He is well," said Andromache and smiled.

* * *

Seventeen days of peace for both the Greeks and Trojans had passed, and they now met on the battlefield. They broke out from their lines and attacked their enemies, doing so in a way that almost suggested it was routine for men to fight and die on the plain.

Paris fought on the plain, wielding his sword against all those that dared to attack him. A new found rage had entered him after he had killed his son, a rage that flowed through his sword and into his victims.

Priam and Helen, along with the Elders and various members of royalty, watched from the walls as the Trojan army fought. Their bodies were tense with fear, especially Priam's as he had grown to loathe the sun rising each day because it signaled another day of war.

Polyxena sat in Andromache's chamber with her, silently playing with Astyanax while Andromache watched.

Andromache had witnessed a drastic change in her sister-in-law after Achilles had been killed, she assumed Polyxena was shaken by his death but could not understand why as she confessed to not loving him.

After Achilles had been killed, Andromache had almost expected, despite her previous thoughts, that she would find some relief knowing he was dead, but she didn't. She only felt annoyed that he had not been killed sooner, that he had not been killed before fighting Hector so Hector could have lived.

As each day passed Andromache found herself looking at Astyanax and seeing him look more and more like his father. Instead of it being a comfort to her, it was becoming almost unbearable because she feared that he would grow up to be like his father and be a warrior, then be taken from her just like Hector had.

"He's grown so much," said Polyxena, breaking the silence and tearing Andromache away from her thoughts. She smiled as Astyanax slobbered on her hand, more of his teeth were coming through and he had taken to biting anything in sight.

"He has," said Andromache and smiled sadly, dreading when the day would come if he grew to be a man and was made a warrior. She looked at Polyxena and rested her hand on top of hers. "If anything is bothering you, Polyxena, you can always tell me."

Polyxena smiled and laughed weakly. "Nothing is bothering me, I'm fine." She then lowered her gaze from Andromache's eyes, not wanting her sister-in-law to detect the lie within her eyes.

Seeing her death in Achilles's eyes was what tormented Polyxena, the thought had become wedged in her mind and it would not leave her. She had even convinced herself that she was hallucinating; that she had never seen her death in Achilles's eyes, that it was not possible, but her mind would not allow her to lie when she knew it was the truth.

Andromache nodded, not wishing to press her friend if she did not wish to tell her. She picked Astyanax up from the floor, where he played with his wooden animals, and rested him on her lap.

"Water," said Astyanax and pointed to his cup which held his drink. He smiled when Andromache passed him the cup and helped him drink it.

"Have you seen Paris after … what happened?" asked Polyxena, wishing to change the topic of conversation. She watched as Astyanax sat comfortably with his mother, inwardly thinking of how it would be for her to have children.

"No," said Andromache quietly, she had still not forgotten the horrible image of Corythus's body on the floor, "he has probably been occupied with the war to see any of us."

Polyxena nodded, although she knew that Paris had only been occupied with the guilt of what he had done. She could relate to her brother's guilt, as she too felt guilt for her part in Achilles's death.

* * *

The cries of men dying echoed within Paris's ears as he fought against the Greeks with his fellow Trojans. Each cut that Paris dealt into another man's flesh reminded him of how he had killed his son.

Men continued to charge at Paris and he weakly aimed his bow at them, having dropped his sword onto the floor as it was so heavy and he felt incredibly weak all of a sudden. He shot each man down around him, though it left him feeling exhausted afterwards and he tried to pick up his sword when he was suddenly shot with an arrow in his side.

A loud groan of pain and shock came from Paris's mouth and he staggered slightly. He looked down to his side, seeing blood trickle from his wound like wine. He tried to pull the arrow from his side, seeing that the cut was not deep, but suddenly felt faint and fell to the floor.

Paris looked across to see Philoctetes, a Greek who was said to have inherited the bow and arrows of Heracles, sneering evilly with a mad glint in his eyes. His eyes then closed slowly, his eyelashes resting against his pale cheeks.

Helen still watched from the walls and cried aloud when she saw Paris had fallen. She rushed down from her throne beside Priam and to the edge of the walls. She peered over the edge, looking at the one she loved even though he did not love her in return.

Priam stepped down to Helen's side, just as soldiers gathered around Paris's body and carried him into the city. The king felt another stab at his heart at seeing another one of his sons fall on the plain, but he restrained from weeping and went with Helen to see Paris.

Still unconscious, Paris was taken to the royal healing house and lain on the bed to have his wound examined by the physician. His temperature was beginning to soar and he was shaking slightly, as if he was shivering.

Helen sat by Paris's side, crying hysterically as she caressed Paris's hand. She could not bear to lose him; he was the only thing she lived for now and with him gone she would be alone in the world.

Priam watched from the side, finally allowing tears to fall from his face because he could not control them anymore. He had seen too many deaths, including the death of his son, to keep from weeping now that his only living son was injured too.

Hecuba had been notified by the servants of what had happened to her son and she ran from her room and to the healing house, tears flowing from her eyes. She had only begun to overcome the death of Hector, and could not face having to do all of that again for Paris too.

"Oh gods, not Paris too!" cried Hecuba and she sat on the other side of Paris, ignoring Helen. She looked to the physician for an explanation, desperate to know whether or not her son would live or die.

"The arrow wound seems small," said the physician, his voice shaking slightly as he looked to those around him, "yet he is deeply effected by it. I can only assume that the arrow was poisoned."

"Are there any remedies?" Priam asked quietly, fearing the answer.

"I do not know," admitted the physician, incredibly uncomfortable at being looked upon by his king and queen with so much hope for their son's recovery in their eyes, "but if there is we will find it."

Following the king's orders for a remedy to be found, the physician sent countless people to find one but there was no such remedy within Troy. He tried to make the prince, who had remained unconscious and only mumbled slightly during the night, as comfortable as possible but without a remedy the prince would soon die.

Hecuba and Helen remained at Paris's side all night, each taking it in turns to dampen his brow as it was the only thing they could do except wait for a remedy. Andromache had come during the night, once Astyanax was asleep and with his nurse, but she could not stay for long because her son soon awoke with sore gums and only wished to see her. Polyxena and Priam had also come various times during the night, though they could do nothing and returned to their chambers to await news there. It was only Cassandra who did not go to see her brother; instead she lay in her own chamber, shrouded within her own world of despair because she knew what would happen but could not prevent it.

As the sun rose it became apparent that a remedy would not be found within Troy's walls and Priam was preparing for men to be sent out into the forests to look, when Paris suddenly awoke.

Paris grasped his mother's hand within his own, and felt all of his energy drain from him as he spoke. "Take me to Oenone, mother. She … she knows … take me to her, I need to see her … I love her." He then fell silent and slipped into a state of sleep again, unaware of the look of pain on Helen's face.

Helen stared at Paris, exhausted with sleep deprivation from sitting at his side all night, and suddenly her tears ceased. She had known Paris did not love her in the way she had hoped, but she had never expected him to love someone else.

"Oenone?" questioned Priam and looked to his wife, confusion in his tone.

"Oenone was his son's mother," said Hecuba and she avoided Helen's glaring eyes, "I believe she is blessed with the knowledge of healing herbs."

Within an instant Helen had concealed the heartache within her eyes and was once again the faithful lover to Paris. She continued to stroke his hand softly, and brushed the beads of sweat from his burning temple.

"Forgive me for speaking plainly," said the physician, noticing the sudden tense feeling in the room, "but if you know of anyway to help Prince Paris then you must tell me … if he remains untreated he will die."

Priam nodded solemnly and stared at his son for a few moments. He could not lose another son, not now, and so he ordered for Paris to be taken to Mount Ida, where they had been told Corythus came from.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for all of the reviews :)

**Queen Arwen – **Thank you for the review and I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, thanks :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **The person you asked does die and that person does die in the myth too. Thank you for the review and I'm glad you liked the last chapter, you rock too :)

**Gaby – **I'm afraid Paris doesn't go to Oenone with Corythus's body, as you will see in this, and I don't think he went in the myth either. You're right though, it was the least he could do. Thank you for the review :)

**Lady C – **Thank you for reviewing all the chapters you did :) I'm sorry I didn't include any of the A/B relationship, but I wanted to focus more on Achilles and Polyxena. I'm really glad you like this, and that this is your favourite fic, thank you!

**Caz – **Thank you for the review! I'm glad you liked the last chapter and that you like how I tell it, thank you :)

**Kal's Gal** – I'll definitely keep going, thanks for the review :)

**Topezgrl – **Thank you for reviewing chapters 55-57 :) I'm glad that you like that I'm sticking close to the book and I'm glad you liked the chapters, thank you!

**Mel – **Thank you for reviewing and staying up to read this, thank you! I'm really glad that you like this, and thank you for the compliment :)


	59. Chapter 59

Sunlight trickled down onto Paris's face and his eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the light. He turned his head to see where he was and saw he lay on a wooden slab, cushioned with thick royal cloths to make him comfortable.

The sweet scent of fresh grass and flowers roused Paris's spirits slightly and he tried to sit up, but the mere attempt absorbed his energy and he collapsed onto his back once more, which caught the attention of the soldiers carrying him.

They lowered him down onto the ground carefully, inwardly thankful for the rest as their arms were incredibly stiff.

"Where am I?" asked Paris drowsily. He felt beads of sweat rush down his head and tried to wipe them away but he felt too weak to do so.

A soldier leaned over Paris and gently dapped at his head with water that was beginning to warm as the day was so hot. "You are on Mount Ida, my lord," he said as he wiped Paris's brow, "we are taking you to be healed."

After a few moments of rest, the soldiers picked Paris up once more and they continued on their way. They did not know where to find the woman who could heal Prince Paris, but they wandered on regardless.

Deciding to walk in the shade and creep out from beneath the blistering sun, the men changed their course slightly and slipped past various bushes and found themselves in an open space with only trees and wild plants surrounding it, the remains of a small pyre heaped in the center.

To the soldiers' eyes it appeared that the pyre had burnt days ago, perhaps even weeks, and as they scanned the area with their war-trained eyes they saw a woman staring at the pyre.

The woman suddenly looked at them as if she was only aware of their presence, yet she had felt them as they came nearer to her. Her hair was blowing with the wind behind her, as was her thick robe at her ankles. She had almost a wild look, the look of an untamed beauty, and was the opposite of Helen, but looked just as beautiful or perhaps more in some eyes.

"There is no one on Mount Ida who can cure _him_," spat the woman and she turned to look at Paris. At first pity and compassion absorbed her face but that was soon replaced with anger and deep anguish. She then sharply tore her eyes off Paris and looked to the pyre.

"We were told there was one called Oenone who could help Prince Paris," said one of the soldiers.

"Oenone," whispered Paris, hearing her name. He turned to where his soldiers stood and followed their gaze to where Oenone stood, his one and only true love.

Oenone had not aged a day, her skin was as supple as it had been when Paris had last seen her, her hair was still a chestnut brown and appeared to still be as smooth as silk to touch, but there was something which had changed in her and Paris saw it when he looked into her eyes.

Instead of seeing a joyful glint, the spirit he had seen in her eyes long ago, he now only saw bitterness and grief, and he knew why. He had killed their son, he had killed _her_ son.

Oenone looked to Paris again at the sound of her name coming from his lips. She saw that he was dying, that she was the only one who could end his suffering and save him, but she couldn't. She couldn't cure Paris when he had destroyed the remains of her heart by killing her son, and she gritted her teeth to contain the tears. He had snatched her son's life from him, and she would never forgive him.

"I'm sorry," said Paris weakly and he reached out to Oenone but she stepped back, even though she was feet away, because she feared his touch.

Paris then stood up off the wood he had been resting on. He stumbled to his feet, feeling the life of him fade at each step he took, but he was determined for Oenone to look at him to see he was sorry.

"My lord!" gasped a soldier as he felt Paris brush past him. He tried to hold onto Paris and usher him back onto the wood so he could rest, but Paris was adamant to reach Oenone and pushed past him with as much force as he could muster.

"I didn't know it was him!" mumbled Paris and he outstretched his hand to touch Oenone, but she again stepped back from him.

"He was your son!" cried Oenone and tears suddenly fell from her eyes. She had not shed a tear for years, not since she had left to live on Mount Ida years ago, and it startled her to feel tears touch her cheeks.

"I know," said Paris hoarsely and clung onto a nearby tree trunk, gasping for breath, "and if I could change what I've done then I would!"

"Would you have changed bringing Helen to Troy?" asked Oenone sadly, and looked at Paris out of the corner of her eye.

"Yes!" said Paris adamantly, surprised at his sudden energy, although he felt it quickly leave him, just like his life was. "I don't love Helen, I love you, I always have."

Oenone was silenced by Paris's words and felt a small gasp escape her mouth. She closed her eyes for a few moments to restrain the stream of tears, but when she heard Paris fall to the ground her eyes shot open.

"Paris!" yelped Oenone and she rushed to Paris's side as he lay on the ground beneath the tree. She traced her fingers along his wound and saw her tears drip onto it.

The soldiers advanced toward Oenone and Paris but one look from Oenone made them stop.

"The gods have cursed me since I was born," whispered Oenone, allowing only Paris to hear her as she leant over him, "but I've had two blessings in this world and they are you and Corythus, but now I'm going to lose you both."

"Remember," said Paris, his voice barely above a whisper, "that I never stopped loving you and that … I'm sorry." His eyelids then closed over his eyes and the poison finally took his life.

Oenone cried aloud and caressed Paris's skin but he did not wake, he would never rouse from death. He had never looked so peaceful, lying next to the one he loved as his spirit soared in the air above them and was sent to the underworld.

"Prince Paris?" asked a soldier, almost expecting him to wake. He looked nervously to the other soldiers when the prince did not respond, and knew that he was dead.

"We have to take him back to Troy," said another, staring wide-eyed at the dead prince and the woman beside him.

Oenone kissed Paris's lips softly and brushed the curls away from his eyes before rising to her feet. She said nothing to the soldiers who looked at her expectantly and ignored their calls to her as she drifted away into the trees like a ghost.

She found the deadliest plants in the forest, then mixed them with the fresh water from a spring and swallowed the concoction. Oenone felt a tingling sensation flow through her but then suddenly began to choke and grasped her throat, desperate for air. Within moments death had shrouded over her and she fell to the ground, her life gone.

* * *

Paris's body was returned to the city of Troy which once again became a city of mourning, like it had for Hector. Trojans gathered in the streets to watch as Paris's body passed them, now lying on a cart like Hector's body had.

In the entrance hall of the palace the Elders of Troy waited to pay respect to their prince, as did his family and friends. Hecuba was the first to descend the stairs and go to her son, closely followed by Priam. She wept quietly as she kissed her son's forehead, and stepped aside for her husband to see his son.

It was not for a few more moments that Helen finally walked down the steps and looked upon Paris's body. A veil hung over her face so no one saw the tears that slowly fell down her face. She did not only cry for Paris, but for herself. With Paris gone she would be even more isolated in Troy, and she felt as if she no longer had anything to live for.

Helen gently lowered her head over Paris's body and kissed his cold lips, which sent a shiver through her spine. She gazed at Paris and smiled sadly because he had never loved her, not in the way she had wanted.

It was not until now that Helen realised that Paris was always holding back from her, as if he was hiding something from her, even in the beginning when they first met but the feeling had not been as strong then. In recent months Paris had become even more distant with her but she had ignored that, her eyes blinded in love.

The daughter of Zeus looked to those around her and she laughed inwardly at how blind she had been. She had left her child and devoted husband for a man that did not love her, and in doing so she had started a war which had shattered the lives of those around her.

"Could the woman, Oenone, not heal him?" Priam asked one of the soldiers who had taken Paris's body to Mount Ida.

The soldier was hesitant to speak but felt the glaring eyes of Priam on him and so decided to answer truthfully as the king would know if he lied. "She would not heal him, my lord."

Helen woke from her thoughts at the sound of the name _Oenone_. That name had haunted her mind because she now knew that Oenone was a past lover of Paris, and that she was also the mother of his son, who he had killed.

"She _wouldn't_ heal him?" gasped Priam, horrified. "Where is she? She deserves to be killed for refusing to heal a Prince of Troy!"

"She killed herself, my lord," replied the soldier, "we found her body on our way back to Troy. It appeared that she had taken poison from a deadly plant."

"How fitting for a nymph," Helen remarked bitterly. She had heard the gossip of the servants in the palace and had learned of Oenone and Paris's brief relationship.

Priam and Hecuba looked across to Helen, shocked at her words.

"Perhaps Oenone could not heal Paris," said Hecuba angrily. "If she had been able to heal my son, then she would have."

"Of course she would," said Helen sweetly, "although I could imagine as to why she would not have wanted to help … considering Paris killed _their _child."

"Enough!" said Andromache and she carefully stepped down to them. She could see the hostility between Hecuba and Helen, it had been growing for years, but she could not bear to see them argue. "Paris is dead now and nothing we say or do will change that. We need to put any differences between us aside … for Paris … for Troy."

Andromache's words silenced them all and the soldiers lifted Paris's body from the wagon. They carried him to where he would be cleaned and prepared for the people of Troy, who would be allowed to look at him before the funeral rites took place.

As Hecuba walked up the stairs she stopped beside Andromache and embraced her daughter-in-law. "I wish to the gods that Hector had not been killed. He would have made a magnificent king, and you would have made a wonderful queen." She then pulled away from Andromache and supervised the preparations for Paris's rites.

It seemed too soon to be watching another prince burn on the pyre as Paris did that night. The people of Troy gathered in the courtyard where the pyre flourished in the night, and they wept for their fallen prince and for themselves. They had expected things to change, for their luck in war to change, now that Achilles was dead but everything seemed to be getting worse.

Andromache sat on her throne beside Helen, Astyanax wide awake in her arms. He pointed to the burning pyre but did not see it was his uncle that burned, to his eyes the fire only seemed like a magnificent bonfire.

"Who will be heir to the throne now?" asked Helen, turning her head slightly to look at Andromache.

"Aeneas," said Andromache, although she did not look at Helen, "he is a cousin of King Priam."

Helen nodded, her eyes now fixed on Paris's body once more. She was quiet for a few moments but then spoke: "Does it get any easier?"

"Does what?" asked Andromache, and looked to Helen curiously.

"Missing the one you love," said Helen quietly. Despite knowing that Paris did not love her, she still felt some love for him. She could not stop loving him with a click of her fingers, it was not that simple.

"No," whispered Andromache, "it never gets easier; in fact I think it gets harder." She looked down to Astyanax and stroked his head. "When I look at Astyanax I see all of the things Hector will miss and it becomes harder, because Hector's life was cut so short, as was Paris's."

Helen nodded. "I have no child from Paris to remind me of him; perhaps the pain will become easier with time."

Andromache said nothing, although she inwardly disagreed with Helen's words. She knew that now Paris was dead Helen would have no one to turn to, whereas she still had her son and Hector's family for support.

* * *

The day after King Agamemnon declared to all the armies, that fought for Greece, that they would not fight for seventeen days to honour Achilles, Odysseus had set sail for Scyros. It had been decided by the Kings of the Aegean, including himself, that they needed Neoptolemus, son of Achilles, to win the war with Troy. 

Agamemnon's seer had prophesied that without Neoptolemus the war could not be won. So desperate for the war to end after ten years of it, Agamemnon immediately called a meeting and all agreed that Odysseus should collect Neoptolemus and bring him to the war.

Not only did Odysseus have to persuade Achilles's son to fight, but he was also given the task of telling Neoptolemus that his father was dead. He did not relish the thought of delivering such news, but he secretly hoped that it would enrage Neoptolemus to fight.

It took Odysseus ten days to reach his destination and when he did he wasted no time and immediately rode to the palace of Scyros where Neoptolemus lived with his mother, Princess Deidamia.

Odysseus was admitted into the palace and to the chamber of Neoptolemus as soon as he arrived. He knew that Neoptolemus would be eager for news of his father and dreaded telling him that Achilles was dead.

"Odysseus!" cried Neoptolemus happily. He was smiling eagerly, desperate for news of his father and when the war would end, but his smile soon faded when he saw the look of sadness in Odysseus's eyes.

Growing up under his mother's wing, Neoptolemus had rarely seen his father and whenever he did he always felt as if he had something to prove. Achilles was a renowned warrior, a man with god-like strength, whereas_ he_ was just the son of that man.

"Have you come to bring news of my father?" asked Neoptolemus, his dark, golden hair caressing his strong chin. He looked at Odysseus anxiously as he waited for an answer, his heart beat quickening.

"Yes," replied Odysseus quietly, "and I am afraid to report that your father is dead." He had not known had to word his answer but as he looked at Neoptolemus he wished he had not been so blunt.

"_My_ father is dead?" asked Neoptolemus, his voice shaking slightly. His brown eyes were widened with shock and sadness. He did not believe that it was possible for his father, the great warrior Achilles, to have died; it was almost as if he could not die.

"Yes," said Odysseus, his voice even lower. "Your father was killed in Troy, by Prince Paris."

"_Paris_?" spat Neoptolemus incredulously. He had heard of the weak Prince Paris, the prince who did not fight but instead spent his time bedding any woman he pleased. "How could he have defeated my father? My father is Achilles!"

Seeing little of his father as he grew, Neoptolemus had created his own version of his father, creating him to be a magnificent man that did not exist. He thought his version of Achilles was undefeatable, and thought Achilles to be a man of compassion and worth. He did not know that his had father cared or thought little of him, and choose to remember his father in the way that he had created.

The door to Neoptolemus's chamber opened suddenly and Deidamia, glowing in a pale gold robe with her brown locks tumbling down her back, entered the room. She had heard the news from her servants that King Odysseus of Ithaca had come and wished to see him immediately, hoping that he brought news of Achilles.

"King Odysseus," greeted Deidamia pleasantly and allowed him to kiss her fair hand. She smiled kindly and then stepped over to her son and stood beside him.

"Have you brought word of Achilles?" asked Deidamia, hopefully. She then saw the look of shock in her son's eyes and knew that Odysseus brought ill news.

"Father is dead," said Neoptolemus quietly, his voice slightly bitter. He then glared at Odysseus, almost as if he thought it was him who had ended his father's life.

"What? That cannot be possible," said Deidamia and laughed weakly.

"I am afraid that it is, my lady." Odysseus said sadly.

Deidamia shook her head slightly in denial. She looked at Odysseus and knew he spoke the truth, there was no lie in his voice, but it still astounded her that Achilles was dead.

For a few moments there was silence in the chamber, until Deidamia raised her head and looked to Odysseus suspiciously.

"You could have sent word of Achilles's death by an envoy," said Deidamia and continued to stare at Odysseus, "why did you come personally, have you other business to attend to in Scyros, other _motives_?" She had lived in the company of kings and warriors her whole life, she knew how they worked and knew there was more to Odysseus coming than to bring them news of Achilles's death.

Odysseus smiled inwardly, he had always known Deidamia was a smart woman and knew she would be able to see through to his true motive to coming to Scyros. "You are right Deidamia, I could have sent an envoy but I chose to come here in person."

Deidamia glared at Odysseus angrily and stepped closer to him. "Have you come to persuade my son to join the war?"

Neoptolemus looked at his mother and then to Odysseus, curious as to how the king would answer. He always knew of his mother's fears of him joining the war and remembered how she had persuaded him to not join the fight ten years ago.

"Yes," answered Odysseus truthfully, knowing it was better to speak the truth than to lie.

"I had thought so," said Deidamia and stepped back beside her son. Her eyes were narrowed in anger and she stood by her son protectively, determined no one would take him away from her.

"You want me to join the war?" asked Neoptolemus, slightly honoured. He had dreamt of joining the war and fighting alongside his father, but that was all he thought it was, a dream.

"Only if you wish to," said Odysseus, hiding his satisfaction because he knew Neoptolemus was already considering the prospect of joining the war.

"You are not going to join the war, Neoptolemus!" said Deidamia angrily. She knew of Odysseus's tricks, and knew that he would use every one he could to lure her son into the war.

"Mother," said Neoptolemus, almost warningly. He had grown tired of her constant attention to him; he was a man now and did not appreciate being treated like a child.

"Do you want to die like your father?" asked Deidamia and she turned her head to face her son. It was then that she saw the sudden glint in his eyes, the desire for war she had once seen in Achilles's eyes.

"We were all born to die, mother," said Neoptolemus, his voice cold and annoyed.

Deidamia looked at her son, horrified. In a few minutes he had changed from being her loving and devoted son, to changing into his father who would leave in an instant if war beckoned him to fight. She backed away from her son and quietly left the chamber, unable to look at him for much longer.

* * *

**  
A/N:** There are some sources that claim Oenone committed suicide by leaping onto Paris's pyre and burning alive … I wasn't too keen on that idea and so I've decided to go with the way I have. Either way, Oenone did commit suicide after Paris's death and I've kept to that. Also, thank you for all of the reviews :) 

**Kitera –** Thank you for reviewing both chapter 58 & 59 :) I'm sorry but Paris does die, as you will have seen in this. I'm sorry but it's a central part to the plot. I'm glad you loved the last chapters, thank you!

**Lily –** I agree, I don't think I could have lived amidst all of the tragedy and heartache back then. I'm afraid that Paris does die, as you will have seen in this, and I'm sorry that I killed him. Thank you for the review :)

**Caz-jket –**Congrats on getting an account, are you going to write fanfic here :) I feel bad for Oenone too, she went through a lot. I'm glad that you like this fic, thank you! Thank you for the review too.

**Priestess of the Myrmidon –** I'm glad you're happy that Paris dies ;) Oenone does refuse to heal Paris and I can't blame her after what he did. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and thank you for the review :)

**Mel –** I'm glad that you're continuing to like this, thank you and thank you for the review :) Helen has not been the nicest of characters so I can understand your dislike of her, I'm sure there are more that do and _will_ share your thoughts after this is finished.

**Coz – **Thank you, I'm glad that you like this enough that you would watch it if it was a movie :) I'm also glad that you like this fic, and I will definitely keep going until the end. Thank you for the review!

**Gaby –** I'm sorry that I killed Paris, but I had to in order to stick with the plot that I have planned. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, thanks! And thank you for the review too :)

**meistiwong36 –** I'm still not exactly sure on how many chapters are left in this, although I think, at the most, it will be five but that could change. I'm glad that you continue to like this and I can understand that you're happy about Paris dying ;) Thank you for the review :)


	60. Chapter 60

The war between Troy and Greece had always been a routine; the men would go and fight each day while the women and children were left behind. But now it seemed as if no one knew who they were fighting for or why.

Prince Paris of Troy had died; his body had burnt almost a fortnight ago and many expected King Menelaus to take Helen as his wife and leave, but he didn't. Menelaus wanted to take Helen back and return to Sparta with her but his brother was adamant to remain in Troy until they had won the war.

Menelaus sat on the sand, his bare feet buried within the once glittering sand. He took another swig from his wine and sighed heavily. Since the day he was born he had lived in his brother's shadow, had always been ordered by his brother and had done so without question, but now he was beginning to tire of it. He had come to Troy for his wife, no more and no less. He wanted Helen, he _needed_ her.

A ship was soon spotted heading towards the shores of Troy. Menelaus leapt to his feet, recognizing the sails of Odysseus and smiled brightly. He had missed his friend Odysseus and had missed his voice of reason and intelligence in the meetings with the Kings of the Aegean.

Agamemnon stepped out of his tent at the sound of shouting from the men that Odysseus had returned. He saw his brother standing by the sea and walked over to him, a satisfied look on his face.

"I wonder if Odysseus has been able to bring Neoptolemus with him," Agamemnon wondered aloud, and he looked to his brother.

"He would have," said Menelaus confidently, "he would not have returned until he had brought him."

"Yes, you're probably right," said Agamemnon. He was silent for a few moments and then looked at Menelaus from the corner of his eye. "The kings and I have decided that someone should enter Troy, in disguise, to see the layout of the city and see if it is possible to enter by another way."

Menelaus sharply turned his head to look at his brother. "When was this decided? Why was I not consulted, why was I not there?"

Agamemnon deliberately ignored Menelaus's questions. He fell silent and walked away from his brother and went to greet Odysseus who had just landed on the shore.

"Odysseus!" greeted Agamemnon and clapped his friend's back. He then leant in and whispered: "Have you brought Neoptolemus with you?"

Odysseus nodded, and called for Neoptolemus to meet King Agamemnon.

Neoptolemus carefully stepped off the ship. He was thirty years old, yet he appeared and acted like a much younger man. The lack of a father in his life and spending so much time with his mother had made him younger than his years, or so the Greek soldiers thought.

The son of Achilles almost seemed like a timid child when faced with Kings of the Aegean, who were flooding to the crowd by Odysseus's ship, and the fierce soldiers who stared at him. His eyes were wide, however, with the excitement which had brewed with the sudden longing to fight and be like his father.

The soldiers glared at Neoptolemus, shocked that he could be the son of the mighty Achilles when he looked like a little boy in a man's world. They did not voice their skepticism on whether or not Neoptolemus could indeed end the war, and remained silent.

"Neoptolemus," greeted Agamemnon, "welcome to Troy." He already spoke as if Troy was his and that he was king of it. He sighed heavily after a few moments, almost as if his next words caused him too much pain. "Your father missed you greatly, he thought of you every moment until his death. He would have been so proud to have seen you fight."

Menelaus glared at his brother, infuriated that he could speak such lies without a shred of guilt in his tone. He, including every other man on that shore except for Neoptolemus, knew that Achilles had rarely thought of his son.

"Thank you, King Agamemnon," said Neoptolemus, soaking up Agamemnon's lies. He felt his heart swell at hearing Agamemnon's words and only wished he had seen his father before he died.

"My brother, Menelaus, will show you to your tent," said Agamemnon, "you will have your father's tent; it's what he would have wanted." He then smirked inwardly at how his words had moved Neoptolemus.

"Thank you," said Neoptolemus and he looked at Menelaus. He had never met Menelaus before now, but had heard many stories of the man whose wife had been wooed by a Prince of Troy to know enough of him.

Menelaus silently led Neoptolemus to Achilles's tent. As he led Neoptolemus he saw the look on his face at seeing the walls of Troy clearly, and smiled slightly.

Seeing the walls of Troy for the first time had the same effect on every man or woman, whether they were friends or foes with Troy. Each person was dazzled by its glittering, proud walls and would marvel at its grandness.

They soon reached Achilles's tent, which still held all of his personal items, excluding his armor which Odysseus had won during the funeral games for him. Menelaus parted the flaps to the tent and allowed Neoptolemus to enter first.

There was nothing spectacular to Achilles's tent, but Neoptolemus thought it wonderful. He felt closer to his father by simply standing near his belongings, smelling his scent and seeing his robes scattered over a chest.

As he looked around the tent he saw a gold ring with a dark emerald center lying on a table beside his father's bed. He instantly recognised that the ring had once belonged to Thetis, Achilles's mother, before she gave it to Achilles for him to give to a woman he loved.

Neoptolemus's stomach suddenly constricted as he stared at the ring and he instantly knew who the ring must have been for, Princess Polyxena of Troy. Odysseus had told him how Achilles had died, how he had thought he was marrying King Priam's daughter in Troy. He had chosen to push the thought from his mind, hating the idea that his father could love a woman other than his mother, but seeing the ring forced it back in.

Menelaus noticed the sudden change in Neoptolemus's mood and suddenly felt as if they were both alike. He had always lived in his brother's shadow, and Neoptolemus had always been the son of Achilles and felt he had something to prove to live up to peoples' expectations of him because of whom his father was.

"Fresh water has been brought," said Menelaus and pointed to the basin of water, "and there is cloth beside it also. If you would like to wash and join us in my brother's tent for a feast, then you are more than welcome."

Neoptolemus looked at Menelaus for a few moments before speaking. "Thank you." He then watched as Menelaus left the tent before stepping over to the basin and washing.

* * *

A chorus of laughter and high spirits could be heard from Agamemnon's tent as Neoptolemus finally reached it. He entered quietly and was greeted by the sight of dancing women circling in the center of the room. He had had little experience with women and so blushed when one of them brushed past him. 

"Neoptolemus!" shouted Agamemnon, and paused in his conversion with his brother to greet the man. He was surrounded by Kings of the Aegean, including Odysseus and Menelaus who did not appear in the mood for a feast.

With an aura of shyness around him, Neoptolemus headed towards the head table and sat in the vacant seat beside Menelaus. He was immediately offered various meat and fruit but refused as he was more intrigued with a heated conversation between Menelaus and Agamemnon.

"How do you expect one of us to enter Troy?" argued Menelaus and gripped his goblet of wine even more firmly.

"It can be done, little brother," said Agamemnon irritably, "and as I said earlier, whoever enters Troy will be in disguise."

"As what, a beggar?" Menelaus asked sarcastically.

"Exactly," said Odysseus and sipped at his wine. "Agamemnon and I spoke on the night of Achilles's death and entering Troy in disguise could be quite easy." He drank from his goblet again before speaking. "Trojans are beginning to leave their wall and head into the hills in search of food. If one of us were to head up into the hills and walk back with the Trojans that had gone in the morning, before the fighting, then they could successfully enter Troy with them"

Menelaus looked at Odysseus for a few moments before turning away. He was hurt that Odysseus had been included in the discussion of how to enter Troy when he had not.

"Do you honestly believe this could work, Odysseus?" Menelaus finally asked. He would trust Odysseus with his life and would follow him to the ends of the world if it meant that Helen would be returned to him and the war would end.

"I do," said Odysseus. "If we get inside Troy's walls then we can see if the city has any weaknesses, which may prove to be useful if we wish to win this war."

"Who will go then?" asked Menelaus, inwardly wishing to go in case he saw Helen.

"Odysseus will go," said Agamemnon, even though he saw his brother's desire to go. He would not allow his brother to go because he could not risk the plan being discovered if Menelaus played host to his foolishness, concerning Helen, and try and see her.

Odysseus looked at Agamemnon for a few moments but was not surprised that he had been chosen. He was suitable and able to fulfill the task, yet he was slightly hesitant because he had already been seen in Troy before.

"Thank you, Agamemnon," said Odysseus quietly, "although I cannot help feel that I would be recognised in Troy. If you remember, I entered the city with Menelaus when we first arrived to speak to King Priam."

"I remember," said Agamemnon, his tone annoyed at the implication that he did not remember, "but as you said, you went to speak with King Priam, not the people of Troy who you will no doubt see as you walk in the city to see its layout. You will most likely not see Priam or any other person who _could_ recognise you, and you will also be in disguise."

Odysseus nodded and said no more. He drank from his goblet and soon returned to his tent where he waited for daylight to dawn so he could head up into the hills and wait for the Trojans to come so he could follow them back to their city once they had collected food.

* * *

At the light of dawn blazing through her room, Helen finally rose from her bed. She had been awake for hours during the night, constantly tossing and turning because it felt so strange to sleep without Paris beside her. 

Even though she had had days to grow accustomed to not having Paris beside her, she found that the unnatural feeling for him not to be there never got easier. She would lay in the center of the bed, waiting for sleep to come to her but it wouldn't. Her mind was too occupied with dwelling over the past, her mistakes and how her life would be now.

She missed Paris, she missed his reassuring presence and she finally realised that she needed a man in her live to survive. She had taken Menelaus for granted, he had always been there if she needed him, and she had also taken Paris for granted, and now that he was gone she realised what she had lost.

Helen slowly walked over to her chest and dressed in the robe which lay over it. She felt sadness overcome her as the robe flowed down across her body like water because Paris had bought this for her. She smiled at the memory of how he would always buy her expensive items, even if gold was scarce, and only now realised that he had bought her such items as a substitute to his love.

She violently tore the robe from her body and threw it in the fire which she had ordered to be alight because she felt cold. She then sunk down to the floor and leant against the bed, entirely naked, and began to cry.

After a few moments she pulled a sheet over her from the bed, but as she wrapped it around her she smelled the scent of Paris and froze. She could not escape him and even though he was dead, his presence was more alive than ever.

Helen finally found herself comfortable in wearing an old robe Menelaus had bought her and which she had worn to Troy. She then left her room, taking one of her handmaidens as her escort before she left the palace, and went to the market place in search of new robes.

The years of war had meant that there were fewer items, such as robes and jewelry, in the market place because the merchants could not trade with those from other lands as the Greeks mainly ruled the shores.

A blissful wind breezed through the market-place as Helen weaved in between the stalls with her handmaiden at her side. She finally halted to a stop when she reached her favourite cloth and merchant at his stall.

"Princess Helen," greeted Euphranor and bowed slightly before her. "I am sorry for you loss. Troy has lost a remarkable man. Prince Paris will be missed and forever in our hearts."

Helen smirked at Euphranor's attempt at being sincere because she knew he was lying to only encourage her to buy something, and she had always suspected that he disliked her also.

"Thank you," she finally said, "but I think the people of Troy will learn to endure Paris's death."

Euphranor looked at Helen, surprised at her reaction. He was quiet for a few moments, unsure of how to break the awkward silence.

"My dear princess," he said gently, "may I be so bold as to show you some new robes that have recently been brought to me?" He then gestured to the new robes and smiled broadly.

Helen did not look at Euphranor; instead her eyes were fixed on a typical-looking beggar man who stood not so far away from her. She saw he was staring at the walls, which she could understand as she had found herself doing the same thing in recent times, but there was something about him which drew her attention to him.

For a few moments Helen watched the man intently. She could partly see his eyes from the angle at which he stood and they looked terribly familiar to her. Then, almost unaware of what she was doing, she stepped closer to the man until she was standing just a few feet behind him.

"Odysseus," she whispered aloud, suddenly realizing who the man was.

The man turned at the gentle whisper of his name and gasped at the sight of Helen. He had held a side of his cloak to just below his eyes but took his hand away from it when he saw Helen; therefore it revealed his entire face.

"By the gods!" cried Helen, which attracted a curious look from her handmaiden who remained at the stall with an equally curious Euphranor. "What are you doing here?"

Odysseus took Helen's hand within his own and led her into a deserted lane so they were out of sight from those in the marketplace. Her handmaiden stayed behind, at her firm orders, and waited at the stall.

"Helen," whispered Odysseus and he tried to speak on but he could not keep his eyes from wandering over her ageless face. He looked to those in the marketplace and gripped her hand more tightly. "Helen …,"

"Why are you here?" interjected Helen, she then looked down to Odysseus's clothes, which made him appear like a beggar and not the king he was. Realization suddenly dawned upon her and a deathly pale veil swam across her face. "You've come …,"

"I've come to see if Troy's walls have any weaknesses," said Odysseus, finishing what he correctly presumed Helen would say. He knew Helen would not reveal his identity to anyone; she was a Greek after all and would not betray him. "The war has lasted too long, Helen, it _has_ to end."

Helen nodded slowly, her eyes slightly wide. She was silent for a few moments, absorbing Odysseus's words and then looked across to her handmaiden and then to him again. "We cannot talk here. I will dismiss my handmaiden, wait here and then I will take you to the palace."

"_The palace_?" exclaimed Odysseus, incredulously. He could not be seen anywhere near the palace in case he was recognised, and as Helen had already seen through his disguise he felt certain others would too if he did not leave immediately.

"No one will dare question you if you are with me," said Helen hastily, although her doubt showed through her voice. "I have to speak with you, Odysseus, I cannot live here anymore. I need to leave!"

Odysseus was shocked at Helen's words, he had never seen her so anxious or so desperate. She had always controlled her emotions well but the look in her eyes revealed how distressed she had become.

Helen left Odysseus where he was and quickly dismissed her handmaiden, who was confused to be released for the day, but also glad, and then went back to Odysseus and led him to the palace.

Odysseus's heart raced as he was led to and through the palace by Helen. He could not ignore the curious glares of the servants in the palace and deliberately looked away from them, inwardly praying to the gods that no one would recognise him.

As soon as Helen had ushered Odysseus into her chamber, she entered herself and bolted the door shut behind her. She was breathing heavily and held onto the bolt for a few moments before turning to look at Odysseus, who looked petrified and stood in the center of the room.

"I know the war must come to an end," said Helen, her voice almost a whisper. She looked at Odysseus for a few moments, pondering on whether or not to continue, and as she looked at him she saw that he would not judge her words, he needed her help as much as she needed his. "I know the war must end, and I feel that Troy will not be victorious. I cannot remain in Troy for much longer; I have always been hated here but now Paris is dead it seems as if the Trojans are showing their dislike more freely."

Odysseus looked at Helen, now aware of her dilemma. She had never been married to Paris, technically she was still Menelaus's wife, and had never been a true Princess of Troy because of that. Helen had no friends within Troy that would stand by her; she was hated and blamed for the war by the Trojans and with Paris dead she had no one to protect her.

"Would you go back to Menelaus?" asked Odysseus and continued to gaze thoughtfully at Helen. He knew Menelaus would take Helen back without question because, despite all that had happened, he was still madly in love with her, he was infatuated by her.

"Yes," said Helen and she lowered her head in shame because he had been good to her and yet she had betrayed him, and their daughter. She raised her head after a moment and looked at Odysseus. "I was blinded by my love for Paris; I left Menelaus, my country and my daughter for him … and now I know that hundreds of lives were not worth it. Paris did not love me; I don't think he ever did."

"Menelaus would take you back," said Odysseus and he stepped closer to Helen, moved by her words, "he still loves you."

Helen smiled sadly. "I wish I had not left him, he was everything and more that a woman could wish for in a husband and yet I forsook him." She inhaled deeply and felt tears begin to leak from her eyes. "I had to know, Odysseus; I had to go with Paris because if I didn't then I would always wonder what would have happened."

Odysseus took Helen in his arms and comforted her while she wept. He had always thought of Helen more like a sister rather than a lover. He also had Penelope, his wife at home in Ithaca with their son Telemachus, and would never consider loving another woman while he had the one he loved waiting for him.

"Greece will win the war," said Odysseus after a few minutes, "and you will return to Sparta with Menelaus, you will be safe and happy once more. I promise."

Helen pulled away from Odysseus gently and wiped her tears away. "I should not be allowed to be happy; I should be condemned to death for my actions."

"You are not the one controlling the armies of Troy and Greece," said Odysseus, seriously. "If you had not left Sparta with Paris then I still feel certain that a war between Troy and Greece would have eventually taken place, it was inevitable."

Helen said nothing and looked away for a moment to recover her composure. She finally turned to look at Odysseus once more, her face as perfect and dry as ever. "You have to go now; if you stay longer it will arouse even more suspicions."

Odysseus nodded, his fears of being discovered suddenly returning to him.

"I'll lead you out of the palace," said Helen and walked towards the door, "and then you can follow the path to the gates from there." She unbolted the chamber door and led Odysseus through the palace.

* * *

Since Hector's death Andromache had taken to staying in the comfort of her chamber, rarely stepping outside its confinement because she feared seeing things, even people, which reminded her of Hector. 

The memories of Hector lived among the city of Troy, and even seeing or smelling a particular thing brought back the horror his death to Andromache. She did not wish to burden anyone with her grief and so kept it bottled within her until darkness washed over Troy and then she would succumb to tears as she held Hector's favourite robe because it still retained his scent.

It was not Hector's actual death that tore away at Andromache; it was the bitterness that his life had been cut so short. She had wanted to grow old with him, she wanted to be with him forever and now that he was gone it also meant that her hopes had gone also.

The only thing that kept Andromache alive, that forced her to rise each day, was Astyanax. She would see him lay in his bassinet in the morning, as silent as a mouse because he could feel his mother's grief and did not wish to pain her more, and she would rise and care for him.

Now, after continuous requests from Astyanax, Andromache walked through the halls to the place she feared most, the royal stables. The only other time she had accepted her son's request was on the day that Hector's body had been returned to Troy but after his body returned she decided against going. As the days had passed her fear of going to the stables had grown because the stables_ were_ Hector and his horses had been an enormous part of his life for years.

Astyanax smiled broadly when he saw the stables come into sight. He urged his mother to walk faster and as soon as the path to the stables came into view he wriggled free from his mother's arms, his small wooden horse clasped firmly in his hand, and started to run to the path.

Andromache smiled at the sight of her son so happy; she knew then that Hector's love for horses now lived in Astyanax. Her smile soon faded, however, and transformed into a subtle look of anger at the sight of Helen. Her expression changed once more though at the sight of a beggar man following Helen closely.

Helen looked up, alarmed, when she saw Andromache and Astyanax. She carefully looked behind to Odysseus, completely concealed within his disguise, and prayed that Andromache would not recognise him.

"Andromache," greeted Helen and attempted to smile. She had hoped no one would be in this section of the palace, which is why she had chosen to lead Odysseus away from it by the gates near the stables.

Andromache said nothing but instead went after Astyanax and scooped him up into her arms. She held him closely against her, despite his wriggling protests to be let down so he could go to the stables.

Amidst Astyanax's complaints he dropped his wooden horse to the ground and it fell at the feet of Odysseus. Astyanax suddenly went silent and reached out for his horse.

Odysseus looked down to his feet and to the horse. He simply stared at it for a few moments, wondering whether or not he should hand it to the small prince, when he suddenly saw a way into Troy's walls.

As he looked at the wooden toy, Odysseus could see Greeks building a gigantic wooden horse and as he continued to look at it he could see men climbing into it, hiding within it. He saw the horse full of soldiers being pulled into Troy's walls, the Trojans joyfully dancing around it because they thought the war had ended…

A small gasp escaped Odysseus's mouth and he realised that his pulse had quickened dramatically. He looked down to the horse again, expecting to see something else, but only saw Prince Astyanax's toy.

"Horsey!" cried Astyanax and tried to free himself from his mother so he could collect his toy.

Odysseus then slowly bent down and picked the horse up into his hand and then he stepped forward and handed it to the small prince.

Astyanax smiled happily and immediately put the horse in his mouth and began to chew on it. He then rested his head on his mother's chest and sighed happily.

Andromache continued to stare at the beggar man for a few moments and was aware of Helen's anxious face but finally stepped away from them and continued on to the stables. She inhaled deeply before entering the stables and then finally did, seeing countless things that reminded her of Hector, but she did not weep, instead she smiled because she felt closer to him than she ever had since he had died.

Helen watched as Andromache entered the stables and then turned to Odysseus. "She will not question me about you; she rarely speaks to me except when forced to."

Odysseus nodded although he had not taken in Helen's words completely, instead his mind was occupied with what he had seen when he looked at the horse. He then left the palace and finally left the city of Troy and returned to the Greek camp with a plan formed in his mind on how to enter Troy…

* * *

**A/N:** Odysseus did enter Troy in the disguise of a beggar and he was recognised by Helen. What I've not included in this, however, is that Odysseus, with the help of Helen, stole the Palladium from Troy. The Palladium is a wooden statue that was said to have fallen from heaven, and as long as it was preserved the city would be safe. I've not included the palladium before so I decided not to include it now. Thank you for all of the reviews too :) 

**Kal's Gal – **Everyone is dying and I'm afraid to say that more will die in the coming chapters. Thank you for the review and I'll definitely keep going :)

**Lady C –** I'm glad you like this and I'm glad you liked the portrayal of grief. What Neoptolemus will do to win the war will be shown in coming chapters, and his name is certainly a tongue turner. Thank you for the review :)

**Lily –** I'm glad that you're learning new things by reading this; I think the Trojan War is a great thing to learn about. I'm afraid Oenone will not have a proper funeral in this, sorry :( Thank you for the review :)

**Gaby – **Thank you for the review and I'm glad you liked the last chapter :)

**Idun03 – **I will show what happens to each character after the fall of Troy, although I've not decided how I'll do it yet but it is planned. Thank you for the review! I'm glad that you would like me to continue on, that's lovely, thanks :)

**Caz-jket – **I'm sorry you waited for a long time for the last chapter, I'm writing quite fast at the moment so I'll try and get the updates out faster. I'm sure you don't have a terrible imagination, and thank you for the review :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon –** You've no need to apologise for enjoying Paris's death, I can understand :) I'm glad you liked the last chapter and preferred how I chose for Oenone to die, thanks and thank you for the review!

**Queen Arwen –** I think you do have a heart; it's just that you're not particularly fond of Paris which I can understand. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, especially the characterization of Neoptolemus, and thank you for the review :)

**Kitera –** Thank you, I'm glad you liked the last chapter. I'll try and update more often and thank you for the review :)


	61. Chapter 61

The sun had begun to set when Odysseus finally returned to the Greek camp. His feet were weary from his exhausting journey, yet his heart had never felt more alive because the prospect of defeating Troy was now so close.

A loud cheer erupted within the Greek camp when the soldiers saw that Odysseus had returned to them safely. Many of them had silently prayed during Odysseus's absence because they knew if he could not find a way to defeat Troy, then no one could.

The Kings of the Aegean had convened in Agamemnon's tent to discuss what to do if Odysseus could find no flaws in Troy's structure. Each of them had been anxious since Odysseus's departure earlier that day because this was their only hope, the war had to end now, it could not go on for much longer.

Odysseus pulled his disguise from his body to reveal a pale green robe beneath. He drank from a cup one which of his men offered him and then walked towards the Kings of the Aegean, who now stood outside Agamemnon's tent to greet him.

"Do you bring good news, Odysseus?" Agamemnon asked. The corners of his mouth curled upwards at the satisfied look on Odysseus's face and he gestured for his friend to enter the tent.

Agamemnon, followed by the other Kings of the Aegean, followed Odysseus into his tent. He took his place in his throne; a smile still spread across his aging face, and looked to Odysseus who now sat in a chair a few feet to the left of him.

Odysseus waited for all the kings to enter and be seated, and then he looked at each of them in turn. He could see that every one of them wished the war to end so they could return to their families and homes, but he also saw that they wanted to win the war, they wanted to justify ten years of being in Troy by winning.

"Troy's walls are perfectly structured, their walls cannot be breached and it has no weaknesses." Odysseus finally said, and as he spoke he could see the hope from each mans' eyes, except Agamemnon's, fade.

"However," continued Odysseus, speaking quietly and slowly, "I have found another way to enter Troy's walls."

A murmur of excitement rushed through the tent and the faded hope was revived. They had all prayed for victory, had desired to taste the sweetness of winning a war after battling for ten years, and it seemed that their prayers were finally being answered.

"What way have you found?" asked Menelaus, his tone somewhat skeptical. He knew if someone were to find a way to end the war then it would be Odysseus, but after ten years of war he could not help but feel doubtful of ways to end it after it had lasted for so long.

"We shall enter Troy by hiding within a wooden horse," said Odysseus and looked to all of the kings. "A horse so great that it will make the Trojans believe we have left their shores and left it as a gift to the gods!"

Confusion and doubt swept over the faces of many of the kings, and they each stared at Odysseus, thinking he had gone mad. They all thought that such a horse could not be built, and certainly not a horse that could conceal soldiers.

"That is madness, Odysseus!" Menelaus exclaimed. He was breathing heavily and only now noticed that his hand was firmly gripped around his sword.

"Do you propose another way to enter Troy, dear brother?" Agamemnon asked, his eyes narrowing in anger. He had lost all patience with his brother's irrational behavior and was beginning to understand why Helen had left him.

Menelaus fell silent and tightened his grip on his sword but said nothing.

"This may seem like madness, my friends," said Odysseus, an obvious note of annoyance in his voice, "but it is genius."

Odysseus then carefully explained, to his intrigued audience, of how a magnificent wooden horse would be built. A horse so great in structure that it would hold a small group of men, and fool the Trojans into thinking they had fled and left it to appease the gods into allowing them a safe journey home…

* * *

With the moonlight and various beacons as their only light, the Greek soldiers began to build the great wooden horse Odysseus had spoken of. Epeius, a renowned architect and warrior, was left with the power of designing the horse while Odysseus supervised. 

While some men slunk off into the shadows of the night, up into the hills to collect timber for the horse, Menelaus stayed behind and watched the building of it. He watched as the men worked furiously, with such enthusiasm that he had not seen within their eyes since the first day of battle.

He saw Neoptolemus looking out to the sea, the water lapping at his feet, and walked over to him. Menelaus could see that Neoptolemus's mind was filled with thought, as was his, but decided to intrude upon him, as the thought of quelling his troubles came to him.

"It is an unusually cold night," stated Menelaus as he stepped beside Neoptolemus. He saw Neoptolemus's body jerk with fright slightly and wondered, like the other soldiers, how Achilles had ever fathered a son so different from how he had been.

"I will have to take your word for it," said Neoptolemus and smiled slightly. His time in Troy had been short, he had not even fought yet as Agamemnon preferred for him to study how the battles commenced before actually taking part.

Menelaus smiled, but it soon faded and he rubbed his brow gently. "News has been brought to me today of my daughter Hermione."

"I hope she is well," said Neoptolemus and he turned his head to look at Menelaus. He thought that, by the look on Menelaus's face, it was ill news.

"Oh yes, she is very well," said Menelaus and he stared out to the sea. He had not seen Hermione for years, not only had she been abandoned in the care of nurses and servants by her mother, but also by her father.

"I am glad of it," said Neoptolemus, his voice sincere. He had never met Hermione and had heard little of her, but he did feel as if they had something in common as they had both spent rare amounts of time with one of their parents, and in her case, both parents.

"Thank you," said Menelaus, and his voice showed that he wished to say more. He had been considering what he was about to say for some time now, since the arrival of Neoptolemus in fact. "My daughter is now fifteen and ready to be married, I have had news today that there are men already wishing to take her hand in marriage."

Neoptolemus continued to look at Menelaus thoughtfully, wondering why he was being told this. He did not mind being informed with such matters that were personal to Menelaus, yet he felt there was more to the situation that had not been said yet.

"As I am not in Sparta and do not know when I will return there," continued Menelaus, "I cannot meet my daughter's suitors and I feel uncomfortable entrusting someone else to meet the men and choose which of them should be her husband." He then looked across to Neoptolemus. "I know you have never met my daughter and have probably not thought of her before now, but I would consider it a great honour, as would she, if you would marry her."

Neoptolemus continued to stare at Menelaus for a few moments and then turned away, in surprise. He had never imagined Menelaus would suggest such a thing, especially not to him as he felt somewhat unworthy to ever marry such a girl.

"I am speechless," said Neoptolemus, after he had taken a few moments to register Menelaus's words. He turned to look at Menelaus once more and nodded slowly, unable to reject a man he considered a friend. "Of course, King Menelaus, I would be more than honoured to marry your daughter."

"Thank you," said Menelaus happily and a true smile widened across his face. He suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders to know that Hermione would be married to a man like Neoptolemus.

Neoptolemus said nothing, unsure of what to say. He knew he must marry someday; he would need an heir as all men did, but he had never thought he would find marriage when at war in Troy, and he smiled slightly.

* * *

The cold morning air rushed through Helen's balcony and chilled her bare arms as she sat in front of a burning fire in her chamber. She moved slightly in her chair and wrapped a thick shawl around her arms, but she still felt cold. 

Since leading Odysseus safely from the palace, she had remained in her chamber alone. Her mind was filled with thoughts of how she could leave Troy and she wondered if Odysseus would remain true to his word, that she would actually return to Sparta with Menelaus and be happy.

Troy no longer held any happiness for Helen. Paris had died and now she was alone, surrounded by people who hated her. Everywhere she turned she faced the shame of what she had done, by looking into the faces of those who had suffered from the war.

There was not one within Troy who was untouched by the war; everyone had their own story of grief to tell. Paris was now dead and they did not dare to attack the Greeks with their pain, so instead they attacked Helen by making her see their pain.

As thoughts of returning to Sparta swirled through Helen's mind, she began to think of her daughter, Hermione. She rarely thought of her daughter, not because she did not love her, but because it pained her too much to think that she had left her.

Helen knew that Hermione was now fifteen years old, an age ripe for marriage. She could imagine suitors from distant lands vying for her daughter's hand and smiled sadly. She wished she could be there to greet them as they came but knew she had no right when she had left Hermione for the love of a man. She wondered how Menelaus would pick a man when he was here in Troy, but her thoughts were soon broken when she heard a soft knock on her door.

"Enter," shouted Helen, her voice echoing in the lifeless chamber. She turned her head slightly to see a young servant girl walk towards her, a scroll tightly enclosed within her hand, and reached out for it.

"This is for you, my lady," said the girl and bowed slightly before Helen. "It was given to a guard at the main gates."

Helen looked up to the servant, a puzzled look on her face. She took the scroll from the girl's hand but did not read it. "Who gave it to the guard?" Her voice sounded casual, yet her mind was drowning in curiosity.

"I believe it was a young man who had come from the hills," said the girl. "I think the guard thought it was someone from Mount Ida, but I am not sure."

Helen nodded slowly, her first thought was that it was from Oenone, as she knew no one else there, but then she remembered that Oenone was dead. "Thank you, you may go now."

The servant bowed in front of Helen again and then quickly departed from the chamber, closing the door quietly behind her.

For a few moments Helen simply stared at the scroll, her heart beginning to race with excitement and dread. She finally tore the scroll open and immediately recognised the neat writing of Odysseus.

Her eyes furiously scanned the scroll three times before she began to absorb the words Odysseus had sent her. She dropped the scroll to the floor in shock, shocked at what Odysseus asked of her.

It was only after the echo of the scroll hitting the hard, stone floor stopped that she considered whether or not someone else could have read it. She looked down to it and remembered that the seal of Odysseus, which he used for informal matters and which only a select few recognised, had been intact when she had taken it from the servant.

She knew that if someone had read the contents of the scroll then they would have immediately taken her and interrogated her on every word, and as that had not happened she felt comfortable to believe it would not.

As that fear passed her, however, she began to fear what Odysseus had asked her to do…

* * *

The distinct sound of the war horns echoed throughout the city of Troy and Andromache awoke at their call. She leapt from her bed and rushed out to the balcony to see what had caused them so sound once more, as they had not rung since Paris had died. 

Andromache saw hundreds of Trojans running towards the gates of Troy. They ran so fast it appeared that they were fleeing from some great fear, yet the fear they had dreaded had always been outside Troy's gates and now they freely rushed to it.

The door to Andromache's chamber burst open and Xanthe entered the room. She quickly looked around the chamber for Andromache but then saw she stood out on the balcony and went to her.

"Andromache!" panted Xanthe and clutched onto her chest as she exhaled heavily. "The Greeks have gone. They've gone!"

Andromache sharply turned her head towards Xanthe. She shook her head slowly, unable to believe that what she had hoped for was true.

"I heard it from the guards myself," exclaimed Xanthe, "they told me that the Greeks had fled but that they had left something, I am unsure of what."

"They have gone?" stuttered Andromache, still frightened of believing what her heart desired because she thought if she accepted it then it would turn out to be a cruel joke. She looked into Xanthe's eyes, the eyes she had trusted for longer than she could remember, and gasped because she knew her friend spoke the truth.

"I know no more than I have told you," said Xanthe. "I heard the news from the guards and then rushed to tell you as soon as I could. I think King Priam has gone down to their camp, I heard Helen went also."

Andromache noticed that Xanthe no longer addressed Helen as princess; she had noticed that this had begun since Paris's death but did not reproach her. She looked at Xanthe once more and then out to the city, which seemed like chaos with Trojans all rushing towards the gates.

"Xanthe, please stay here with Astyanax," said Andromache and she stepped back into her chamber. She had once again slept in the peplos she had worn the day before and so quickly wrapped a shawl around her bare arms before kissing her son's head as he slept, despite the noise, and left the chamber.

Andromache rushed to the entrance hall and a guard was able to take her on a chariot to the scene that had aroused such chaos.

The gates of Troy were wide open to allow the Trojans to flood through them as they raced out onto the plain. It seemed as if no one knew how to react, many not wishing to believe that the Greeks had really left in case it was not true. They had forgotten their old lives of how they had lived in happiness, how they had basked in the glorious sunlight on the beach of Troy, how they had once lived without fear, and could no not believe their old lives may be returned to them.

A loud gasp escaped Andromache's mouth as the chariot left the walls of Troy and raced on across the plain. There, in the distance, she could see a great wooden horse, a horse so tall and proud that she felt it could even invoke fear within a god's heart.

The guard, standing beside Andromache on the chariot, steadied to a halt by a small group of chariots which had gathered near the horse. He quickly stepped off the chariot and then went to help Andromache but she was already heading towards the king and the others that surrounded the horse, which stood near to the burnt tents of the Greeks.

Once Andromache reached Priam's side she found she could not speak. She felt as if her chest had suddenly constricted when faced with the enormous horse and was speechless, astounded at its size.

"What is it?" Andromache finally whispered, choosing to speak quietly because she did not wish to disturb the silence that now surrounded the great horse.

"An offering to the gods, Princess Andromache," answered Archeptolemus, an Elder of Troy, his voice equally as quiet. "The Greeks have left our shores and offer this to the gods for a safe journey home."

"Why have the Greeks left now?" Priam wondered aloud and he also stared up to the horse in amazement.

"They must have been threatened by the gods," answered Archeptolemus and stared at the horse in awe, "if they did not leave then they would be cursed. I am surprised it has not happened sooner, but the gods' timing is the best."

Andromache did not question Archeptolemus on how he knew all of this, correctly assuming that he was only well versed in great offerings to the gods, but she did look to her father-in-law with a questioning look. "You intend to burn it, don't you? You cannot allow this to remain here."

"It's a gift to the gods!" exclaimed Archeptolemus, shocked that the princess could suggest such a thing.

"It is a gift from the Greeks!" snarled Andromache and she turned to look at the other Elder's of Troy. She wished Hector was with her as she spoke; he would have encouraged her instead of giving her glaring looks as if she were stupid like many of the Elders did. "Have you all forgotten what the Greeks did to us, how they killed the lives of hundreds … including the life of Hector, of Paris and countless other men!"

"Andromache," whispered Priam and he gently placed a hand on her arm. He could sense that she was upset, although she revealed no sign of it to anyone else, and knew that she was right in wishing to burn the horse because of what the creators of it had caused, but he would not risk angering the gods and causing more pain to his people.

The king looked to his Elders and the many faces that surrounded the horse. "This horse is a gift to the gods. It is a gift by the Greeks, but I will not risk angering the gods and risking the lives of my people in burning it." He ignored the angered look sweeping over Andromache's face and continued on. "The horse shall be brought into our city and honoured. By doing so we will be respecting the gods, not the Greeks."

Andromache looked up again at the horse and even though she could see nothing peculiar or suspicious in its structure, she felt as if dozens of eyes were watching her and she felt a shudder ripple down her spine. She slowly turned away, amazed yet disgusted by the horse, and returned to the chariot and to the palace.

Though Andromache was unaware of it, Helen also quickly left the scene surrounding the horse and returned to her chamber. She had felt like crying aloud with guilt when she saw the horse because she knew that Odysseus's great plan had begun to take effect…

* * *

**A/N:** The horse was said to be left to appease the Goddess Athena because Odysseus had stolen the palladium, and to grant the Greeks a safe return home. _I've_ said that the horse was for the gods, not only Athena, as I've not included the palladium. Also, there was a man called Sinon, sometimes referred to as Odysseus's cousin, who was by the horse when the Trojans found it. He basically told the Trojans to take the horse into the city as it was an offering to the gods by the Greeks. I've not included him in this, only because someone else will do what he would have done in Troy. Thank you for the reviews too :) 

**Queen Arwen –** I miss Hector too, I really miss writing him. I'm glad that you continue to like this, and the characterization of Neoptolemus and how Andromache is coping. Thank you for the review too :)

**Hecuba2 –** I'm afraid that I won't be able to fulfill you're request, I'm so sorry. I've planned how I'm going to end this for a while now and I want to remain faithful to what really happened, or as much as I can and have. Thank you for the review :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **Thank you for the review and you're not stupid :) I'm glad you liked the last chapter and I'm pleased you continue to like this, thanks!

**Kcrane – **Helen is definitely more likeable in the movie, although that's because the movie wasn't very close to the book. Andromache and Astyanax will meet the same end as in the myth, and thank you for the review and I'm glad you liked the last chapter :)

**Kal's Gal – **Thank you for the review, and I will keep going :)

**Kitera – **I'm glad you liked the last chapter, thank you :) Helen certainly isn't very nice at the moment, and I think many of you will dislike her even more once this has finished.

**Caz-jket – **Astyanax is cute, especially in my mind. I haven't covered him in this as much as I should have, but there's just so much to get in, lol. Thank you for the review :)

**Gaby – **Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter :) It is sad to see Andromache upset, and she is different from how she was with Hector. Thank you for the review!

**Coz – **Have a nice holiday, I hope you enjoy it :) I'm glad you like this, thank you! And thank you for the review and for thinking this should be a movie :)


	62. Chapter 62

Amidst the ear piercing cries of joy and relief that echoed throughout the city, the gigantic wooden horse was pulled into Troy by those only too happy to do so. The horse symbolized the end of the war for all, or so the Trojans thought, as they did not even begin to think that a different end faced them…

Hundreds of brightly coloured petals fell down into the courtyard by dozens of ecstatic women who stood on surrounding balconies, crying with joy. The refreshing wind soon swept up many of the delicate petals and carried them through the city for all to see.

Young maidens, in their best and beautiful robes, twirled and danced in the courtyard while people watched and waited for the horse to be pulled there. Many soon joined in with the dancing, allowing their defenses, which they had built at the beginning of the war, to now fall as it seemed to have ended.

The city was filled with the sweet essence of victory, but it was not the bitter victory of conquering over another land, it was the victory of being alive and the thought of facing a bright new world where there was no war.

Small children, who had been born during the war, were amazed at the sudden change to their homeland. They had known no life different from the war and danced happily at the prospect of a new life that was suddenly possible.

A smile was spread across the lips of almost everyone, but there was no smile on the faces of the Greeks who hid within the horse. They strained their eyes with seeing, through the slabs of the horse, what was happening beneath and around them. Their hearts raced with fear because those in the horse were outnumbered and knew they would be killed if caught, so they were silent and were scared to even breathe.

Those concealed within the horse were not the only the ones to feel less than inclined to smile, as Helen's face was less than joyous. She sat in her throne in the courtyard, watching as the horse was pulled there, and felt sick with guilt. She hated herself for leaving Menelaus and their daughter, she hated herself for loving Paris, and even though she hated what Odysseus had asked her to do, she remained firm with the conclusion that she would perform what he had asked.

The daughter of Zeus knew she could no longer remain in Troy. There were too many memories, too many people that she could not hide away from, and so she wanted to run from them. She wished to run from her shame.

It was not only the Greeks who did not smile with happiness, Andromache did not smile, instead she felt like crying tears of rage. She could not comprehend how the people around her, including Priam, could smile and laugh as if hundreds of lives had not been stolen by the Greeks, the Greeks who had built the horse which now stood proudly in the courtyard.

Andromache wanted to scream at them all, she wanted to remind them of those now dead, she wished to remind them of her beloved Hector. She felt tears creep into her eyes when thinking about Hector because she missed him so much. He had been her everything, nothing could have parted them except death … and now it had.

"No!" screamed a loud voice and hundreds of faces turned to Princess Cassandra who rushed into the courtyard. She ran to her father and knelt down in front of him, crying madly.

"Father," she cried, and the city was filled with silence as everyone strained their ears to hear her, "you must burn this horse. It brings the end to us all, you must burn it. You must!"

Priam grabbed Cassandra's hands forcefully and tried to pull her to her feet, determined not to be shamed by his daughter in front of his people.

"No, father, please," wept Cassandra and she tried to rip her father's hands off her. "You have to burn it, please, father! If you do not burn it then we will all die!"

A loud gasp from each Trojan rushed through the city when they heard Cassandra's words, and Priam looked to his daughter with anger blazing in his usually kind eyes.

It then shocked everyone to see Priam slap his own daughter's face, to slap her so hard that she fell to the ground. She fell to the feet of the horse which she claimed brought death to them all and her tears suddenly stopped.

"I will no longer accept your madness!" snarled Priam, his voice shaking with fury, and he glared down to his daughter. "I will not allow you to put fear into our hearts once more, not when the Greeks have left. You speak lies, and I will not allow it!"

Priam then turned to two of his guards and ordered them to take Cassandra to her chamber and make sure she did not leave it.

Hecuba, who had also not smiled with her people as the horse was pulled into the city, watched as her daughter was taken away. She then looked back to her husband, shocked and frightened by what he had done because she had never believed him possible of such a thing. Hecuba looked to those around her, angered that they could celebrate when her two children were dead. She slowly rose from her chair, swaying slightly as she felt faint, and returned to her chamber with a flock of handmaidens behind her.

Helen had felt her heart stop when Cassandra's words echoed throughout the courtyard because she knew they were the truth, the horse would bring the end to Troy. She lowered her head as she tried to gather her composure and then lifted it slightly after a moment, determined to appear unmoved by the sudden outburst from Cassandra.

Andromache looked at Priam, horrified by what he had done. She then looked to the palace, where Cassandra was now being escorted to, and rose to her feet. She handed Astyanax, who was giggling happily at the rapturous joy and laughter which had begun once more, to his disgruntled nurse and headed towards the palace.

The palace was almost empty as everyone was celebrating in the city courtyard. Andromache made her way through the halls, her heart racing quickly as she pondered over Cassandra's words.

The guards, positioned outside Cassandra's chamber to make sure she did not leave, looked at Andromache with surprise when she reached them. They were even more surprised when she asked for admittance into the chamber, but agreed and opened the door for their princess.

Andromache entered the chamber cautiously, afraid of how she might find Cassandra. She immediately saw Cassandra looking out of her balcony, from where she sat, with a goblet of wine grasped firmly within her hand.

"My father has never hit me," said Cassandra, her voice low, and she touched her cheek, where she had been slapped, "not even when I misbehaved as a child."

Andromache walked across to where her sister-in-law sat and sat down beside her. She saw Cassandra's red cheek from Priam's blow and immediately sat up and dipped a cloth in a basin of water, which sat beside Cassandra's bed, and then lightly dabbed it on her friend's cheek.

"I know what you wish to ask me," said Cassandra, and she looked at Andromache. "I knew you would come to me."

For a moment Andromache could not speak because she was somewhat surprised Cassandra had read her thoughts. She took the cloth away from Cassandra's cheek and looked down to it before returning to her chair beside Cassandra.

"Is what you said … to your father … is it … is it true?" asked Andromache, her voice shaking somewhat.

Cassandra looked at Andromache thoughtfully for a few moments before shaking her head. She knew what would happen, and even though she had tried to change Troy's fate by telling her father, she knew she could not because the gods would not let her.

"I wanted my father to burn the horse," Cassandra finally said, "but only because it had been made by the Greeks." She was silent for a moment, and then spoke again. "I thought my father would believe my words and then burn the horse."

Andromache looked at Cassandra, unsure of whether or not to believe what she had said. She could not forget how Cassandra had known what would become of Hector and did not stop it.

As her mind turned towards thinking that what Cassandra had told Priam was true, and what Cassandra now said was a lie, she felt as if the thought was suddenly pushed from her mind.

"What was the point of this war?" Andromache said after a few moments, although it was no question, and she sounded as if she spoke more to herself than to Cassandra. "Hector could have been spared; he could still be alive now if the war had not started." She was silent for a moment but then spoke again. "Neither country won in this war; instead Death triumphed over us all."

Cassandra said nothing but placed her hand on Andromache's and held it tight. Neither of them spoke for hours, instead they looked to the night sky and listened to the celebrating outside.

* * *

When night had fallen, many Trojans returned to their homes and enjoyed the prospect of sleeping without the fear of another day of war ahead. There were other Trojans, including some guards, who were drunk with happiness and wine, and so they slumped against various walls and slept peacefully. 

There was one, however, who was neither drunk or asleep, but wide awake and standing in the shadows of the courtyard.

It was Helen, cloaked in black, who loomed in the shadows and waited, as Odysseus had instructed her, for the courtyard to clear. She had waited there for hours, barely moving as she scanned the surrounding area.

It was not long before the courtyard was still, everyone having either left or fallen asleep. Helen had waited like a snake about to strike and now stepped out from the shadows when she saw the area was clear. She then slowly walked towards the horse, her breath suddenly quickening.

As Helen walked away from the dark shadows and towards the horse, she felt eyes staring at her, but knew it was not Trojans looking at her, and had never felt more terrified. She stopped beneath the head of the horse and only now released that she had Troy's fate in her hands. She could either scream that there were Greeks in the horse, therefore saving Trojan lives and instantly condemning the lives of those in the horse, or she could knock on the foot of the wooden horse, which would signal to the Greeks that the courtyard was clear.

Before she had even realised it, Helen tapped lightly onto the horse and could immediately hear the soldiers moving within it. She stepped back in horror, not because she had knocked on the horse, but of what she had started.

A small opening at the base of the horse's stomach suddenly opened and ropes dropped down from within it.

Without even waiting for the soldiers of Greece, who were chosen to hide within the horse, Helen quickly headed towards the walls of Troy.

Almost all of the guards who were defending the walls were either drunk, therefore too dazed to notice Helen, or asleep against their posts, and the stench of wine hit Helen like a strike to the face when she passed them. She quickly walked up the steps, picking up the hem of her cloak and robe so she did not fall, and soon stepped onto the wall.

Without pausing to think, Helen picked up the nearest beacon of light and held it in her hand for a few moments before dropping it over the wall. The beacon fell to the ground, still burning brightly.

The beacon signaled to the rest of the Greek army that it was safe to come forth, that the plan was in motion.

The Greek army had sailed to an island called Tenedos, not far from Troy. There the soldiers had waited, after burning their camp and abandoning the horse, until night fall. Once night had fallen the Greeks sailed towards Troy once more and waited on the sea for the signal.

"What are you doing here?" asked a voice behind Helen.

Helen spun around to see a guard looking at her suspiciously. She saw that the man had not recognised her until he saw her face and watched as realization dawned over him.

Before Helen could even speak, she saw a figure creep up behind the guard and in an instant, before she realised what was happening, she saw the guard's throat slit by the figure that had crept up on him.

The guard was pushed to the ground and Helen then saw Menelaus standing there, a knife in his hand that dripped blood onto the ground. She gasped quietly and held a hand to her mouth for a few moments, unaware of what to do or say. She glared at her husband, her husband who she had not seen this close for ten years.

Helen felt a tidal wave of emotions overcome her as she looked at Menelaus. She saw his eyes wander over her face and released tears of shame. She then threw her arms over Menelaus and clung to him, scared to let go of him because she did not want to see the fall of Troy.

Menelaus suddenly froze when he felt Helen lean against him, but he did not wrap his arms around her. He felt scared, scared to give his heart to Helen once more because he feared that she would only break it again.

Despite his fear, however, Menelaus slowly wrapped his arms around Helen. It was then that he knew that he would always go back to Helen; always follow her, because he loved her. He did not care how many times she would break his heart; all he wanted was to be with her.

"Return to your chamber, Helen," said Menelaus, his voice low. He then looked into her eyes as she began to back away from him. "Stay there, I will come for you soon."

Helen said nothing and walked down from the wall and headed towards the palace. She blocked out the screaming and tried to block out the images she saw, but after seeing a woman dragged from her home and then seeing the woman's young sons killed, she found she could not block those images from her mind, and she felt more tears seep from her stone-like face.

* * *

**A/N: **I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, so I will now. Hermione was at first promised to Orestes, who also happens to have been Agamemnon and Clytemnestra's son. I shall only say that Menelaus promised both Orestes and Neoptolemus his daughter's hand because I may choose to add some of this to the story at the end. 

I've not included Orestes in this, and so I've not mentioned him before now. Thank you for all of the reviews too :)

**Queen Arwen –** The story will be ending soon, there's only a few more chapters left. I'm glad you liked the portrayal of different emotions, and I'm also glad you liked the reaction to Odysseus's plan :) Thank you for the review!

**Kal's Gal –** I'm glad you like the story so far and thank you for the review :)

**Lily –** You may not see this as you don't want to read the fall of Troy, but if you do see this then thank you for reviewing :) I understand if you don't want to read the end as it is sad. Also, I'm glad you liked the last chapter, thanks!

**Idun03 –** I'm glad you liked the last chapter and how I'm putting the details together, thank you! I'm also glad that you found it interesting to see more of the Greeks, and thank you for the review :)

**Measureayear –** Thank you for the review! I'm glad that you're still excited about this, even though you know what's going to happen, thank you :)

**Gaby –** It was definitely horrible for Helen to betray the Trojans, especially as she lived with them for ten years. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, thank you :)

**Caz-jket –** I suppose Neoptolemus and Hermione together could be a weird match, but it happened so I've wrote it, lol ;) Thank you for the review and I'm glad you liked the last chapter!

**Priestess of the Myrmidon – **This will go on for a bit yet, at the most I'm planning five more chapters. Go Andromache, indeed :) I'm glad you liked the last chapter, thank you and thank you for the review.


	63. Chapter 63

**Warning: From this chapter onwards, the deaths of certain characters will be shown. There will be some violence, though there will be no harsh language. I'm undecided on whether or not to raise the rating, if you think it should be raised then please let me know.**

* * *

The wooden horse, which now stood proudly while Troy was destroyed, had held only the best warriors from the Greek armies. Among those in the horse were Odysseus, Menelaus, Ajax and even Neoptolemus.

Neoptolemus had not shown his skill in battle before now, but as he killed tens of Trojans, the Greeks could see that he fought like his father. Neoptolemus had never seen his father fight, yet he held the same mad glint in his eyes after taking life, and he seemed to be the embodiment of the Achilles the Greeks had known and idolized.

The guards at the wall were slaughtered like cattle, unable to defend themselves because they were either drunk or had been taken by surprise. Once the guards had been killed, the gates were then pulled open.

Thousands of Greeks raced over the plain of Troy, Agamemnon leading them, and flowed into the city like an unstoppable tide of water. They killed all those in their path, including the old and young. They felt no qualms over the lives they stole, and took even more pleasure from killing those who valiantly tried to defend themselves and the ones they loved.

No mercy was shown, not one ounce of leniency to the old who cried in terror, to the young that posed no threat to the Greek soldiers, or the women who screamed out as they were raped in the streets.

Houses were set alight, even if people were still in them, and the city soon became like hell, with blazing fires beginning to consume homes and innocent lives.

* * *

The spine chilling screams of innocent Trojans soon reached the palace. The cries rushed through the palace and to the chamber of Cassandra, where she and Andromache still sat, reminiscing over past times. 

Andromache was laughing, something she had not done after her husband's death, at Cassandra's tale of how Hector had once fallen off a horse during a race with Polyxena when they were children. Her grin soon vanished, however, when the screaming suddenly reached her ears.

Cassandra's smile also disappeared because she realised the time had come. She watched as confusion and fear swept over Andromache's face and wished she could do something to end what would happen, but she couldn't, as even her fate was sealed by the unrelenting gods.

Andromache slowly stood to her feet and walked out to Cassandra's balcony, afraid of what she would see. She felt her heart hammer against her chest as she neared the balcony, and quickly prayed that she was imagining the screams.

The sight of homes burning, people running for safety, and innocent lives lying dead on the streets, was what greeted Andromache's eyes. She staggered on her feet, disbelief flooding into her eyes, and gripped onto the balcony tightly.

Cassandra stepped out onto the balcony also and gasped at the sight she saw. She had seen some of Troy's fall in her dreams before, although the images were not as real as they were now. There seemed nothing so real, so uncensored, as the scene which lay before her.

Silently, Cassandra stepped back slightly. She wanted to run from the sight she had wanted to prevent, the sight which had haunted her thoughts and dreams, the sight which would begin even more heartache for the Trojans that survived.

Andromache suddenly turned when she heard Cassandra move, and grabbed Cassandra's arms. Her eyes, filled with anger and shock, glared into Cassandra's and she tried to speak but couldn't form words.

"You … you lied to me," Andromache finally stuttered, her voice hoarse. "You said this would not happen!"

Cassandra knew that after this night, Andromache would rarely feel happiness in her life again. She had only lied because she wanted Andromache to feel some happiness again, and she wished to explain this, but couldn't as Andromache's attention was suddenly diverted.

A child's cry had begun within the palace, which made Andromache look away from her sister-in-law. She froze for a moment, looking across to Cassandra's door, because she knew in her heart that it was Astyanax who cried.

Andromache suddenly released Cassandra from her grip and ran out of the chamber and into the halls. She paused for a moment, looking from right to left, to see which way would take her to her chamber more quickly.

Once Andromache had decided which course to take, she raced towards her chamber. She saw those in the halls, mainly servants, were fleeing in the opposite direction, but she did not follow them.

All that Andromache wished to do was find her son and to see that he was safe, she would then take him and run forever, run until they were safe. He was all that she had left in the world now, she loved him more than life itself, and would kill anyone who tried to take him away from her.

Just as Andromache was turning the corner that led into the hall where her chamber was, she fell to the hard floor, tripping over the hem of her robe. She quickly scurried to her feet, ignoring her bleeding lip, and continued on until she reached her chamber.

Andromache burst into her chamber and saw Astyanax standing up in his bassinet, crying madly. He reached his arms out for his mother, terrified by the sounds which came from outside the room.

A loud exhale of relief left Andromache's mouth when she saw her son was safe and she went and picked him up into her arms. She held him closely against her and kissed his head, thankful to the gods that he was safe with her.

"It's alright," soothed Andromache as she held her son, "you're safe now." She went over to her wooden chest where a thick blanket rested on it, and wrapped Astyanax in it.

"What noise?" asked Astyanax and he pointed out to the balcony where the horrible sounds came from.

Andromache said nothing in answer to Astyanax's question for a moment, and looked to where he pointed. She found it hard to believe, even though she had seen the destruction with her own eyes, that Troy was falling all around her, and she felt tears leak from her eyes.

"It is nothing, my dear," said Andromache, quietly and she kissed Astyanax once more.

Footsteps suddenly approached the doorway to Andromache's chamber, just when she was about to leave, and she turned to see King Odysseus, surrounded by a handful of his men, standing at the doorway.

Andromache stared at Odysseus and her eyes suddenly widened with realization because she suddenly recognised his eyes. She remembered seeing only Odysseus's eyes, as the rest of his face was covered, in the palace a few days past.

As her mind remembered that time, Andromache also remembered that Helen had been with Odysseus. She shook her head slightly, unwilling to believe that even Helen would help the Greeks, but as she delved into Odysseus's eyes she saw her fear confirmed.

"Helen … _Helen_ helped you?" said Andromache, her voice unusually weak and low. She wanted to hear it from Odysseus's mouth; she wanted to hear that Helen had betrayed Troy because she was still reluctant to believe it.

No matter how much Andromache disliked Helen, she had never presumed that Helen was capable of betraying Troy. She found it hard to believe that Helen would betray the city of Paris, especially when she had lived there for ten years. But Andromache soon accepted that Helen was capable of such a thing, because she knew that Helen would seek her own happiness above everyone else's.

Odysseus looked away from Andromache, unnerved at how she stared into his eyes. He bowed his head for a moment, attempting to delay what he needed to do, but he soon lifted his head and looked at Astyanax.

Greece's victory over Troy had been planned in intricate detail, even down to which royals should be spared, and which royals should be killed. Odysseus continued to look at Astyanax for a few moments, with this thought in his mind, and then turned to his soldiers.

"Take him," ordered Odysseus, his voice barely above a whisper.

Obeying their king's words, the soldiers walked towards Andromache, their hands slowly outstretching so they could take Astyanax.

Andromache backed away as they came closer to her and she held onto her son more tightly. She shook her head slowly, her face as pale as death, and tried to speak because she knew what they were trying to do.

She looked around the room frantically, looking for a way to escape and then she saw the balcony. She hurried out to it, but knew that she and Astyanax would die from the fall if she were to leap from it.

The soldiers enclosed around Andromache and Astyanax like a pack of wolves, desperate for a kill. They suddenly began to tug at Astyanax and tried to prize Andromache's hands off him but she would not let go of him, even though he screamed, because she knew she couldn't let them take him.

Andromache tried to push the men away, hitting them as best she could, but she found that this only encouraged them. She tried to keep Astyanax in her arms, she tried to save him, but she soon felt him slip away from her hands and into the clutches of one of the soldiers.

Still, Andromache would not accept defeat and she charged towards the soldier that held Astyanax. She clawed at his skin, biting and kicking him, because she wanted him to release her son, her baby.

But Andromache's attempts were soon ended when the soldier, that held Astyanax, turned to face her and slapped her so hard across her face that she tumbled backwards and hit her forehead against the balcony wall and then sunk down to the floor, unconscious.

"You fools!" exclaimed Odysseus, amidst Astyanax's cries, when he saw Andromache on the floor. "She is Andromache, Hector's widow. Agamemnon ordered for all the royal women to be unharmed!"

Odysseus's voice shook with nerves as he spoke, and he was aware that the soldiers noticed his unusual agitated manner. He took no pleasure from finally beginning to defeat Troy because he knew that the Trojans did not deserve what was happening to them.

Troy had never been a threat to Odysseus or his homeland of Ithaca; it was only because he was sworn to the oath to defend Menelaus's right to have Helen that he fought. He knew that if he refused to fight then Agamemnon would attack his land, and as his land was weaker than Agamemnon's, he knew he would not win.

The only thing that kept Odysseus focused was that this would soon be over, the night would soon end and a new day would dawn. At the back of his mind, however, he knew that he would forever be haunted by tonight's events, and that his mind would forever be plagued with the cries of innocent Trojans, which he would be powerless to stop.

"Pick her up," Odysseus said to one of his men, "and follow me."

Andromache was harshly picked up and carried within the man's hands, and she did not stir at the sudden movement. The man holding her did not tend to Andromache's wound on the side of her forehead which was bleeding, and instead he followed his king without saying a word.

Odysseus led his soldiers from the palace. He kept his eyes straight ahead and did not let them wander over the bodies of innocent people because he could not bear to see their faces. He weaved in between the bodies and out of the path of those who fought for their lives, and still he did not let his eyes wander.

The city was ablaze; even flames began to take a hold of the royal stables and sections of the palace. The innocent lay dead, although some Trojans were rounded up – mainly women who could be sold as slaves – and chained together.

A chorus of children's crying and women's screaming echoed throughout the city, and their lament was soon adopted by men who cried at the sight of their dead friends and relatives, until their lives were taken also.

Odysseus and his soldiers soon reached the walls and he slowly climbed the steps up to them. Each step he took gave him the feeling that his insides were splitting, but he continued on with the hope that it would soon end. He knew what had to be done, what had to be done to defend the lives of his people in years to come, but he knew that he was merely creating an excuse to justify what he had to do.

Astyanax's crying had persisted on the way to the walls, but his cries suddenly stopped when he was carried up onto the walls. He could fondly remember the times when his father had taken him onto the walls to look out to the sea, and suddenly felt relaxed.

Feeling the sudden, harsh wind that could only be felt on the walls, Andromache woke. Her eyes opened slightly and she winced in pain at the blow which her head had received.

For a few moments Andromache remained still, and allowed her body to get used to the pain. As she remained motionless in the soldier's arms, she slowly began to remember what had happened.

"Here, my king," said the soldier who held Astyanax, and he handed the child to Odysseus.

Odysseus carefully took Astyanax into his arms, and held him the same way he had held his own son. He scanned Astyanax's face for a moment, smiling inwardly at how much the young prince looked like his father, Hector. But as he continued to look at Astyanax, he suddenly felt sickness bubble in the pit of his stomach.

While Odysseus looked at Astyanax, he imagined someone else killing his son, Telemachus. He hated the thought of anyone harming his child, but he also knew that there was no mercy in war, no happiness became of it, not even for the winning side because they would be haunted by their actions.

Andromache fully opened her eyes at the sound of the soldier speaking to Odysseus. Her eyes darted around where she was now, but her eyes soon stopped and stared at the sight of Odysseus holding her son.

"No!" shouted Andromache and, as the guard who held her was unaware she had woken; she broke free from the soldier's grasp and charged towards Odysseus. She saw the sudden shock seep into Odysseus's eyes and almost reached him when another soldier grabbed her.

Blocking out Andromache's cries as she struggled to break free from her new captor, Odysseus continued to look at Astyanax. He saw that Astyanax had relaxed in his arms and felt sick at the thought that the small boy felt safe in his arms; because he knew that the child was wrong in his judgment.

Odysseus slowly walked closer to the edge of the walls and then, even more slowly, held Astyanax over the wall. He saw the fear grow in Astyanax's eyes and then he saw that the boy noticed his mother, Andromache, and outstretched his arms to her, for her to help him.

His heart racing with fear for what he was about to do, Odysseus dropped Astyanax and then quickly looked away from the wall and tried to ignore the sound of Astyanax hitting the floor.

Astyanax fell down below the walls, cracking his skull on a rock and dying instantly. He had barely tasted life, yet he had lost so much in the time he had been alive. Not only had he lost his father and uncle, but now he had lost his own life also.

A blood curdling cry screamed out from Andromache's mouth, and it stopped the hearts of all those near, including Odysseus's. She attacked the soldier that restrained her, and a hard blow into the man's stomach from her made him instantly release her.

She ran to the walls and leaned over them to see her son, and with the moonlight and burning fires as he torch, she could see a small body on the ground. She narrowed her eyes to see in the darkness, and then saw a small pool of blood surrounding Astyanax.

Sickness immediately raced up Andromache's throat and she released it onto the ground beside her, pulling her long hair back as it rushed from her mouth. She bent over, allowing all of the sickness to leave her, and then slowly straightened up.

Andromache looked to the men around her and no longer saw the satisfaction of winning the war in their eyes, instead she saw the horror, of what they were doing, dawn upon them.

There was no use in trying to see if her son was alive, Andromache already knew that Astyanax was dead because she could feel it. She had felt the remaining pieces of her heart crumble when Odysseus dropped her son, and she could feel that his life was lost.

No tears rushed from Andromache's eyes as she sunk down to the floor and leaned against the wall. She felt that she could no longer cry, as if she were drained of tears. She felt so numb of pain that she fell silent, and remembered the look her son had gave her.

In her mind, Andromache could see the look on Astyanax's face as he had looked to her to help him. She had seen the look of fear on his small face and felt sick with guilt because she had not been able to help him.

That look would forever haunt Andromache and she hated herself for not being able to protect and save her son. She felt as if she had failed not only Astyanax, but Hector also. When Hector had died she was left with the responsibility to protect their son, but she had failed.

Andromache had endured what no person should have to bear. She had lost her entire family in Thebe, she had lost Hector, and now she had lost the most important thing in her life, her child.

* * *

**A/N:** Some say that Odysseus was the one who dropped Astyanax over the walls, while others say it was Neoptolemus. I've chosen it to be Odysseus in this. Thank you for all of the reviews :) 

**Queen Arwen –** Of course I didn't think your review was a flame. If there's something you don't like in this, then tell me and I'll try to improve. I do agree with you though, I think the last chapter was a little rushed. Thank you for the review :)

**Lily – **Thank you for continuing to read and review this, I'm glad that you want to, even though the end will be sad. Thanks for the review :)

**Kal's Gal –** I'll keep going, thanks for the review :)

**Gaby –** I'm glad you liked the last chapter, thank you :) I agree, Helen was horrible for betraying the Trojans. Thank you for the review!

**Hecuba2 –** I'm sorry that I've thrown Astyanax from the walls, and that he dies in this. I don't think I'll write a sequel to this, but I may write other H/A fanfiction. Thank you for the review :)

**Caz-jket –** I'm glad you liked the last chapter and that you continue to like this story, thank you and thanks for the review! I'm sorry that no one believes you, but it's nice that your name is Cassandra; it's a great name :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon –** I can understand your hate towards Helen, and I enjoyed your name for her ;) I'm glad you love the story, thank you! Thank you for the review too :)


	64. Chapter 64

As screams continued to reverberate throughout the city, the old King of Troy knelt beneath Zeus's altar. He did not pray for himself, instead he prayed for his people because he wished to die.

Priam could no longer live with the memories that rushed through his mind day and night, and he knew that they would slowly turn him mad, and ultimately be the death of him. But he did not wish to wait years for death to eventually take him; he wished his pain to be cut short.

As he prayed, he remembered how he had been awoken from rare sleep at the sound of screaming and shouting through his city. He had felt his heart stop when he saw the destruction that the Greeks had already left in their paths, and knew they would already be heading towards his palace.

He had rushed to his wife's chamber, running as fast as he could for one his age, but she was not there. Then, after hearing the voices of the Greeks, Priam knew that they must have taken his wife, but he did not go after her.

The king was not so foolish as to think he could defeat tens of Greeks and save his wife before more came, and he knew that she would not die that night. He knew that the Greeks would take her and give her as a spoil of war to one of the soldiers or kings that fought, and as much as this repulsed and sickened him, he knew he could do nothing.

Priam knew that his daughters would be safe also, or as safe as they could be within Greek hands. His daughters were Princesses, and he felt they would not be harmed, but as his mind flickered to think of Andromache and Astyanax, he felt his heart shudder.

Dread sunk into the pit of Priam's stomach as he thought of Andromache, because he knew that she would live that night but her son would not. He could already feel that his grandson was in danger and did not dare to hope that he was wrong because he was a man of war also.

Priam knew how the minds of the Greek Kings worked because he had faced war many times in his life before and knew whose lives would usually be spared when a city was sacked and defeated.

A quivering breath escaped Priam's mouth as he thought of his family and he felt cold tears run over the lines of his aged face. He clamped his eyes shut, determined not to release more tears, and continued to pray.

He knew his people needed him now, not only could he hear their pain, but he could feel it also. He felt as if he were being stabbed continuously as he heard his people's pain and felt more tears leak from his eyes.

The door to Zeus's temple opened silently and a tall figure entered. He crept into the shadows of the hall, his heart hammering against his chest. He froze for a few moments and stared at King Priam before creeping near him.

"I do not need to see you with my eyes to know you are there," said Priam and his voice rung proudly throughout the temple. He slowly opened his eyes, and turned his head to see who had entered.

Priam had expected to see a mere Greek soldier as he turned his head, yet he was horribly surprised. He was right in assuming the person was a soldier, he could see that by the man's attire, but he saw something unexpected as his eyes wandered over the man's face.

The eyes of Achilles, the eyes that seemed to blaze like a ferocious fire, glared at Priam and the king was horrified. He had dreamt of those eyes ever since Hector's death, he had seen those frightening eyes in his thoughts for what seemed forever.

"Achilles?" said Priam, his voice barely above a whisper.

The man looked at Priam for a few moments, his face unreadable. He looked down to his sword, that had once been his father's, and noticed that it dripped the blood of his victims onto the cold, stone floor.

"I am the son of Achilles," he said finally and he looked up from his sword. He almost appeared to be in a daze, his thoughts all seemed blurred, and he suddenly realised that he was shaking.

It was then that the son of Achilles, Neoptolemus, realised what he had done. He looked down to his sword once more and his eyes became fixed on the blood that covered it. He could almost hear his victims whispering in his ears, he could hear their cries of pain and his face lost all colour.

Priam was stunned by Neoptolemus's words, he was not even aware that Achilles had a son. He looked at Neoptolemus's eyes once more and knew there was no mistaking that he spoke the truth as he certainly had Achilles's eyes.

Silence filled the hall as Neoptolemus looked at his sword, and Priam looked at Neoptolemus. He felt immediate hatred boil within his veins when he looked at Neoptolemus because he was the son of Achilles, which Priam thought was more than enough reason to hate him.

As Priam continued to look at Neoptolemus, however, he noticed something he had never seen within Achilles, and that was guilt.

"You've never taken life before, have you?" said Priam, an almost authoritive tone returning to his voice.

Neoptolemus heard Priam's words, but said nothing and continued to stare at his sword. He had never taken the life of another before; he had even been repulsed by hunting as a child until he heard that his father enjoyed it, it was only then that he forced himself to like it.

It had never dawned upon Neoptolemus that almost every act he did was to either prove how alike he was to his father or to gain attention from his father, he had done it so often that he now did it subconsciously.

"Do you fight for yourself or for your father?" asked Priam and he slowly rose to his feet. He already knew the answer to his question, he could see it within Neoptolemus's eyes, yet he knew Neoptolemus hadn't realised it.

Again, Neoptolemus heard Priam's words yet he remained silent, though he inwardly asked himself the question. He immediately answered that he fought for his father, that he fought to seek revenge for his father, and it was then that Neoptolemus asked why he took the lives of innocent Trojans instead of the lives of those that had caused his father's death.

"You are confused," said Priam, "you do not know who you fight for or why. You think you fight for your father, but why are you not fighting for yourself? That is the rule of war, to block out all emotion; otherwise it gets in the way." He did not know why he said this to him; he only knew that Neoptolemus was no man of war.

Neoptolemus shook his head angrily. He wanted to fight for his father, he had always wished to honour and please his father, but when he thought of the lives he had taken, he wondered if it was worth it.

"I fight for my father," stuttered Neoptolemus, and he felt his grip tighten on his sword, "I fight only for him!"

"Your father is dead," said Priam and he began to step nearer to Neoptolemus, "you can not save your father now, no matter how many innocent lives you take."

"Stay back!" said Neoptolemus, and he suddenly raised his sword to Priam's throat. He had his father's skill, and could move in the blink of an eye. He glared at Priam angrily, his breath beginning to rise.

Priam gasped quietly as he felt Neoptolemus's sword press against his neck, and even though he wished to die, his eyes were still wide with fear.

"I do not ask to live," said Priam, and his voice was no longer calm, instead it was now filled with fear, "so you may kill me now."

Neoptolemus sneered angrily. He did not like being ordered as to what he may or may not do, especially not by a man who had played a part in his father's death.

"Make no mistake,_ King_ Priam, I came here tonight to kill you and I intend to do so," whispered Neoptolemus, a mad glint returning to his eyes. He somehow felt spurred on by the fear within Priam's eyes and his sneer widened across his face.

Without saying another word, Neoptolemus carefully lowered his sword, and then he grabbed Priam by his shoulder and dragged him from the temple. He wished to humiliate the king, he wished the people of Troy to see how weak their king was, and so Neoptolemus dragged Priam to the gates of the palace.

Neoptolemus pushed Priam against the gate once they had reached it and immediately withdrew his sword once more. He could see the fear growing within Priam's eyes and that only encouraged him because he knew that he was now like his father, he knew that he could now put fear within a king's heart, just like his father had been able to do.

Priam's body began to shake as he leant against the gate and his eyes slowly wandered up to his palace. He had been born into wealth and power; he was destined to be king as soon as he was born into the world. He had had a path to follow, a nation to rule, yet he now saw that his nation was crumbling down all around him and he closed his eyes for a moment. He tried to savor the memory of Troy when there was only joy and happiness throughout the city, yet all he could see within his thoughts was the images of his city burning.

After the adrenaline from killing had calmed down within Neoptolemus, he finally began to doubt his actions that night. He had believed he was going to go to the palace and kill those who had aided his father's death, yet once he climbed down from the wooden horse, he found himself killing all those in his path.

The fear within Priam's eyes, however, had now reawakened the fierce adrenaline within Neoptolemus's veins and he no longer felt guilt for the lives he had taken, all he wished to do now was to revenge his father's death.

Sensing Neoptolemus's sudden change in mood, Priam looked away from his palace and stared into the cold eyes of Neoptolemus. He felt only pity for the man that stood in front of him because he knew that Neoptolemus would soon regret his actions of this night, and be forever plagued by the memories of it.

"I am surprised you have not begged for your life yet," Neoptolemus sneered, his cold manner returning. He wiped the blood from his sword onto the blades of grass beside him and then smirked. "I have cleaned my sword, as best I can, in your _honour_."

Priam had no thought of replying to Neoptolemus's words as he did not care if he was killed with a clean sword, all he wished for was his pain to be cut short and for the images of his burning city to be taken from his mind.

"Tell my wife that I love her," said Priam, after a moment. He had planned to say nothing, to face death with a proud and fearless face, but as he looked up to his palace once more, he could not help but think of his family. He saw the grin from Neoptolemus's face fade, and continued on. "Tell Polyxena and Cassandra that I love them, that I could not have been blessed with better daughters, and tell Cassandra that I'm sorry."

At the sound of Polyxena, Neoptolemus stepped closer to Priam and raised his sword slowly. He had not forgotten about the woman who had stolen his father's heart, he had not forgotten her role in his father's death, but he had pushed her from his mind until now.

"Tell Andromache that I'm sorry," said Priam, and his voice shook even more when he saw Neoptolemus advance towards him. "If my grandson … if he is still alive, then please make sure that he remains safe."

Priam knew that he would see no one else before his death, and that Neoptolemus was the only one who could relate his last words to his family, and so he told him. He did not expect Neoptolemus to say his last words to his family, but he knew he should at least tell him, just in case.

Neoptolemus said nothing, although his mind had registered the words. He stepped forward once more and was silent as his eyes wandered over Priam's face. He actually felt guilt scratch at his insides when he saw the weak old king in front of him, but he stepped forward once more.

In one swift movement, Neoptolemus had raised his sword and inserted it into the stomach of Priam. He stabbed the king four times and tried to ignore the sound which escaped the man's mouth when he did so, but he found that the moans only rose until he had stopped.

The son of Achilles then watched as Priam slowly sunk down to the floor, smearing blood over the golden gates. He looked over Priam's body for a moment and then walked away, his sword firmly gripped within his hand.

Blood seeped from Priam's deadly wounds and death slowly washed over him. There was no longer fear spread across his face, or fear blazing within his eyes, instead his face was peaceful.

The King of Troy was now at peace, he no longer had to face the destruction of his city or the mistakes he had made by allowing Helen to remain in Sparta. His mind could no longer dwell on the images of his sons' dying, and his mind could no longer think of the dark things that would happen to the ones he loved. _He was now at peace_.

* * *

The gods had enlightened Cassandra on many events in the war, she had seen blurred images of the downfall of Troy in her thoughts and dreams, yet she had never seen her own death. She realised this as she ran towards the temple of Athena, with fear in her own heart because she did not know if she would die that night. 

Despite all that the gods had planned, Cassandra still felt close to them. The temples of the gods were her haven, her sanctuary. The gods understood her; they knew what thoughts swirled through her mind and knew what emotions flowed through her heart.

Cassandra quietly entered the temple and was immediately greeted by the bodies of priests. Three of them lay dead in the centre of the room, the Greeks having came here already this night, and their blood was mixed together to form a pool around them.

She felt her breath leave her for a few moments when she saw the priests, because not only did it sicken her to see innocent men killed, she had also known them.

As a child Cassandra had begun to come to the temple of Athena, as well as many other temples, and she would spend hours there. She would sit and pray, or learn about the gods and it fascinated her.

Cassandra now scanned the hall, looking for more bodies or hidden Greeks within the shadows, and then walked over to the priests. She closed each of their eyes and then wiped the blood from their faces with her white robe.

There was nothing she could do for these men now and so she silently prayed to the gods that these men would be taken safely to the underworld, and that others like them would be granted the same respect.

After a few moments of silent prayer, Cassandra rose to her feet and then went to kneel before the goddess's statue, but when she was about to do so, she saw that a small wooden bust of Athena had been knocked from its stand and onto the floor.

She carefully picked it up and brushed the dirt from it when she heard the door to the temple open. She gasped when she saw a Greek enter the temple and immediately hid behind the large statue of Athena.

The Greek was Ajax, who had been within the wooden horse as it was dragged within the city. He was said to be brave, one of the bravest within the Greek armies, yet he was also arrogant and felt himself better than the gods.

Cassandra turned her head to look at the Greek once more. She saw him stand and sneer at the dead priests for a moment and then, to her surprise, she saw that he looked directly at her.

The man stared at Cassandra for a few moments, his eyes wandering over her beautiful and innocent face. He wore no expression, but when he looked up to her eyes he saw her fear within them and then smirked evilly, showing his brown teeth.

Cassandra leapt to her feet, still holding Athena's bust. She ran to the end of the temple, expecting to see a door she could flee from but she saw nothing. Then suddenly she spotted a light coming from a hall that led to the east of the temple and she ran through it, seeing a door at the end of it.

Her slender fingers had almost reached the handle of the door, she could reach it if she outstretched her arm, but she then felt a man's hands grab around her waist.

Ajax pulled Cassandra away from the door, laughing at the protests she made and then tried to restrain her hands as she tried to hit him. His smirk was immediately removed, however, when she slapped him across his face.

Cassandra felt the fear rise within her and she felt her heart quicken rapidly. She had not meant to slap him, she only wanted to get away, and now she felt that it was a mistake. She felt his glaring eyes upon her and shuddered with disgust as his eyes wandered over her body.

Then, without caring that she was a Princess of Troy, or even that she had caused him barely any harm worth such a punishment, Ajax forced Cassandra down onto the floor. He pushed her so hard that she cried with pain, and he would not relax his hand on her chest until her back had touched the cold floor.

It was then that Cassandra's maidenhood was robbed from her. Her robe was pushed up to her waist and Ajax lowered down over her. He only laughed at her screams, and smirked at her yelp of pain as he entered her, and he ignored the tears that rushed down from her pale face.

Still, despite what was happening to her, Cassandra continued to hold onto the bust of Athena. She held it tightly, hoping to receive some relief from it, but no comfort came. No help came to her, and it was then that Cassandra began to hate the gods…

* * *

**A/N: **It has been said that Cassandra was clinging onto a miniature wooden statue of Athena at the time she was raped. I've chosen for it to be a wooden bust of Athena, just in case anyone was wondering. 

Also, if at any time anyone believes the rating should be changed, please tell me. Thank you for all of the reviews :)

**Yu –** gh? I'm really sorry but I don't know what "gh" means – was it a mistake? Sorry!

**Lily –** Thank you, I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter! In a way, I'm glad it was emotional as that's what I was aiming for because it must have been that way. Thank you for the reviews :)

**Kal's Gal –** I agree, I feel bad for Andromache too. Thank you for the review :)

**Caz-jket –** I'm glad that the last chapter was descriptive and that it was good, thank you! It is terribly sad, and Astyanax was adorable, it's just so horrible that he had to die at all. Thank you for the review :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon –** Tossing Helen into a fire seems like a plan ;) She did have a horrible ending, according to the myth though. Apparently she was hanged on a tree. I'm glad you like the job I've done with this story, and thank you for saying you admire me :) Thank you for the review too!

**Aesya –** I'm glad you love the story, and thank you for saying you think it should be published :) Just having people read this means a lot to me, so don't worry about not reviewing before this. Thank you for the review!

**Idun03 –** Thank you for saying it was brave to show the horror of what really happened in the last chapter :) I'm glad you enjoyed the description of Astyanax's death, and that it effected you in the way that it did because that is what I was aiming for. Thank you for the review, and I'm glad you liked the last chapter!

**Queen Arwen –** I'm glad you liked the last chapter and that you enjoyed how it was written. I'm also glad you liked my portrayal of it, thank you! Thank you for the review too and for saying I outdid myself :)

**Measureayear –** Gosh, I would love to write Hector coming in and saving everyone, but I made a commitment from the beginning to stick as close as I could to the myth. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and found it good despite it being sad. Thank you for the review :)

**Coz –** Thank you for reviewing both chapter 62&63 :) Andromache certainly won't die, but as you've read, Astyanax does die. I'm glad you like this story, and that you think I've done well, thanks! I'm sure I'll write another after this, although I may take a little break first.

**Meitsi... –** Don't worry, it's not the end of the story yet. I'm not sure how many chapters are left of this yet, but there's still a few :) I'm glad you could feel Andromache's pain in the last chapter, and thank you for the review!


	65. Chapter 65

The sun rose the next day after a night that had brought only death and despair to the Trojans, but no one was glad or comforted by the dawning of the sun, not even the Greeks.

During the night, the Trojans had seen such horrors that they didn't wish to believe them. They wanted the night to have been a terrible dream, a dream that they could soon awake from, but as the sun rose they were forced to believe what had happened.

The Greeks, despite finally being victorious over the Trojans, dreaded the rise of the sun also. As it rose, the actions of the previous night dawned upon them, and many suddenly awoke from the parts of their minds that had allowed them to commit the acts they had.

The crying of children could still be heard throughout the city and on the plain, but their song had lessened during the course of the night because they had learned to silence themselves unless they wished to be killed. They knew the Greeks were looking for any _justifiable_ excuse to kill them, but the children would not surrender their lives so easily.

The remaining Trojans that had been spared, mainly women, were silent also, but not because they feared death, but because they kept replaying the night's events in their minds, including the death of their king.

The Trojans had heard their king was dead, which killed any hope they had of being saved. The Greeks had shouted the news from the walls, their joyous cries echoing throughout the city which was like a stab in the heart to the Trojans. No one thought to disbelieve the Greeks as they now believed them capable of anything, especially after killing their king.

Now, fires still burned weakly within the city, but the Greeks had begun to stop them from growing because they wanted to begin searching through the destruction for valuables they could take home.

Blood trickled through the city like wine and it stained the paths it crept across. The blood was of innocent Trojans, innocent people who had died because of a war no one understood.

These sights of destruction are what met Andromache's eyes as she was led away from the walls and to the ships. She had made no sound after the death of her son, no tear had leaked from her eyes, yet she felt like she was drowning in despair, from within, as she replayed Astyanax's death in her mind.

She thought over every little detail, starting from the beginning of the previous day. All that swirled through her mind was _what if_, _what if I had fled the city earlier with him_, _what if I had questioned Cassandra more_, _what if_…

As Andromache was led out of the walls, she began to frantically search with her eyes for her son's body. She looked to where he had fallen but saw nothing from where she stood. She wanted to go and find him, to scoop his small body into her arms and to hold him forever, to keep him safe with her, but she couldn't. Her hands were bound together with rope and she would not be able to escape the men around her before they caught her.

Andromache was taken down to the ships, which rested on the sand with waves crashing against their sides. She saw that temporary tents for the kings had been set up near the ships, and shuddered to think that they would soon be taken down when the kings left Troy, because she knew she would be leaving with them.

Each step that Andromache took brought her closer to the tents and she felt her heart begin to quicken as she did not know what to expect, but as she drew near them, she suddenly saw Hecuba and Polyxena together beside a fire.

The Queen and Princess were shivering as they sat in their light night robes, which were stained with dirt at the hem. They held hands together, neither speaking as they each relived the horrors of the night within their minds.

As Andromache neared her relatives, she saw that their hands and ankles were bound with rope and that there were only two Greeks, who were in deep conversation, to guard them. She lifted her head to see more of the royal family, but saw no one else, only a few wives of noble men.

"Take her there," Odysseus said to one of his men, and he pointed to where Hecuba and Polyxena sat. He looked at Andromache for a moment, though she did not feel his eyes against her face because she looked across to her mother-in-law, and then he left his men and entered the nearest tent.

The man followed his king's words and grabbed Andromache by her arm, and took her over to the fire. He forced her to sit on a stone, although he did not bind her ankles together, and spoke briefly with the two Greeks guarding Hecuba and Polyxena before stepping away and entering the tent where Odysseus was.

Hecuba looked up in disbelief when she saw Andromache. She made to stand up, but the rope that bound her ankles together prevented her from doing so. She had expected Andromache and Astyanax to be dead along with Priam and Cassandra when they had not been brought to the ships, because she had heard the news of her husband's death in the night and assumed her daughter, Cassandra, to be dead also.

"Andromache," said Hecuba and she opened her mouth to continue speaking, but she found she couldn't even form words to say. Her mouth remained partly open as she felt a tear escape her eye and pass over her lips, which sent a shiver through her body.

Hecuba's eyes wandered over Andromache once more and she then looked across to a group of men who were entering Odysseus's tent. She closed her eyes briefly as she realised what had happened to her grandson, but then slowly turned her head to look upon the city she had been Queen of only a few hours again.

"Where is Astyanax?" asked Polyxena, a note of panic in her voice. She was no longer so ignorant of the ways of war to not realise what might have become of her nephew.

When Andromache said nothing in reply, Polyxena knew that her nephew was gone, that his life was lost. She bowed her head and felt tears rush into her eyes but she did not dare to release them because she was adamant to never allow any Greek to see her grief, she would not award them that victory.

Andromache could not speak; she didn't even wish to open her mouth because she was afraid of saying what had happened to Astyanax. She inwardly continued to deny what had happened to her child; she felt that if she accepted it, then she would be condoning it.

The laughter of the guards loading things onto the ships sent a shiver through Andromache, and Hecuba looked at her. Hecuba could feel the pain that Andromache felt as she too had lost children, her darling boys. She had watched her sons dying, their lives stolen by an unjustifiable war, and it had almost killed her to see it. Hecuba was more alike to Andromache now than ever and she reached out and placed her hand above Andromache's.

* * *

In the palace, surrounded by chaos and destruction, Helen sat alone in her chamber. She was plainly dressed; choosing to wear a dull robe Menelaus had bought her, and wore no fine jewels that usually decorated her neck or wrists. 

She had chosen to leave all of the belongings she had received in Troy because she wished to forget her life here. She wanted to block it from her mind forever, however impossible that seemed, and never wished to face the shame of what she had started by coming to Troy.

Screams reverberated throughout the palace and Helen could hear the walls shake slightly, but she did not flee. She was scared to leave the safety of the chamber she and Paris had shared for years, the chamber where Corythus had been killed, because she could not bear to face the scenes of horror that lay outside.

The chamber Helen and Paris had moved to, after Corythus's death, seemed lifeless and cold compared to their former one, so she had come here after seeing Menelaus. She felt safer in this room as she could still feel Paris's presence within it.

This chamber seemed more like home to Helen than anything she had ever known, but only because she had shared it with Paris. The memories they had created were gathered in this chamber and Helen smiled as she looked at the bed they had made love in, and she grinned even more when she looked out to the balcony where Paris had professed his undying love for her. Those times seemed so far in the past that Helen struggled to remember what had gone wrong in her relationship with Paris.

Her body shivered, however, when her eyes looked upon the blood on the floor where Corythus had been killed, and she realised that she and Paris had begun to drift even more apart after that. She could still remember that night as if it were yesterday, she could remember every detail, and she now knew that there would be more blood stains throughout the city because of the Greeks.

The door to the chamber opened slowly and Helen jumped with fright in the chair she sat in. She tightened her grip on a small dagger she held beside her and looked towards the door.

A sigh of relief escaped Helen's mouth when she saw Menelaus enter the room. Her eyes wandered over his face for a moment and she felt like a young girl again, like the young girl she had been when Menelaus had come to marry her in Sparta.

Menelaus stepped into the light that beamed through the room, from the balcony. As he did so, Helen suddenly saw blood splattered across his Spartan breast plate and she shivered slightly.

He slowly walked towards Helen when she rose from her chair, but then paused and left a few feet between them. He stared at Helen for a few moments, unaware of how to act or even what to say.

Until the previous night, Menelaus had been parted from Helen for years. He had been over joyous with the thought of seeing her again, of having her by his side once more, but he now realised that things would never be the same.

The life they had once shared would never be returned, what had happened would always linger at the back of everything they did. Not only that, but Menelaus realised that he would have to learn to trust Helen once more, if that were possible. He knew that he loved her; he could not love her more if he tried, yet he also knew that it would take time for him to ever trust her like he once had.

As Helen looked at Menelaus, she felt her insides tighten with guilt. She now looked upon the man who had loved her through everything and she felt more guilt seep into the pit of her stomach because she did not love him, and she knew that she never could.

Guilt began to swim through Helen's veins as she continued to look at Menelaus because she knew that thousands of lives had been taken for nothing. She would now be with Menelaus once again, even though she had left him for another man.

Helen slowly began to step closer to Menelaus and she wrapped her arms around him. She rested her head on his chest, feeling how odd it was to be so close to a man that was not Paris.

She knew that Menelaus had fought for her almost everyday for years, that he loved her more than anyone had ever loved her, and that, even after all she had done, he did not hurt or dishonour her. It was then that Helen decided to remain by him and, even though she knew it was not possible, she would try to love him.

"Take me home," she finally whispered in his ear, "to Sparta."

* * *

A deathly silence filled the palace halls as Neoptolemus walked through them, alone. He did not know where he was or where he was going, he only knew that he could not rest while the thought of his father's murder swirled through his mind. 

He had become even more adamant to avenge his father's death after he had taken the lives of innocent Trojans because the desire for revenge occupied his mind entirely and he was not forced to think of the things he had done on the previous night.

Deep inside him, Neoptolemus knew he was not like his father and that he was not supposed to be a cold-blooded killer. He could imagine his mother sitting in her chamber at home, he could even picture her agonizing expression as she worried for him, and he realised that his place was with her. However, Neoptolemus also knew that he could not leave Troy until he had finished what he had started.

As Neoptolemus continued to walk through the halls, he suddenly heard laughter coming from a room he had just passed. He withdrew his unclean sword from its sheath and gripped it tightly within his hand, poised for attack if need be.

However, as Neoptolemus cautiously entered the room he had heard the laughter from; he was stunned to find Agamemnon there, surrounded by various Greek kings. He had not known what to expect, yet he had certainly not expected to see Agamemnon sitting in a throne that had once belonged to King Priam.

Neoptolemus quickly looked at his surroundings and saw, to his astonishment, that he was in a great hall and was even more surprised to see a woman filling Agamemnon's goblet with more wine.

"Neoptolemus!" cried one of the kings, and Neoptolemus turned to face the man and saw that the king was being fanned by two women, undoubtedly Trojan.

Agamemnon's eyes looked across to Neoptolemus as he drank from his wine. He wore no expression across his face, yet his eyes were filled with satisfaction from winning the war.

"Your father would have been proud of you, as proud as I am," Agamemnon said slowly, a note of sarcasm in his voice that was not recognizable to anyone but Neoptolemus. "I am entirely grateful to you for all that you have done while at Troy, and you will be awarded and honoured greatly."

A forced smile suddenly appeared on Neoptolemus's face because he knew that Agamemnon was not proud of him. He knew that Agamemnon hated him for killing Priam because he knew that Agamemnon had wanted to kill Priam himself.

Neoptolemus's smile widened, however, as he looked at Agamemnon because he enjoyed watching the hatred for him grow in the king's eyes. He had once been fooled by Agamemnon's fake compliments and words, yet he had suddenly awoken to how Agamemnon acted.

Agamemnon snapped his fingers and one of his guards immediately came to him. He turned his head slightly to face his guard, yet kept his eyes on Neoptolemus.

"Take Neoptolemus down to the ships," he ordered, "and allow him to choose from any of the royal women there."

The guard nodded in reply, just as the doors to the hall opened again.

Surrounded by four of Agamemnon's men, Cassandra entered the hall. Her face was as pale as snow and her dark hair fell down her back in curls. A thin, see-through peplos covered her skin and, even though she looked confident, you could see that she was shaking beneath it.

A murmur passed between the kings, excluding Agamemnon, as they looked upon Princess Cassandra with wonder. They had heard of her natural beauty, but they had also heard that she was a seer that was disbelieved and thought mad by the Trojan people, including her family.

Agamemnon lifted his eyes off Neoptolemus and focused them on Cassandra. A true smile widened across his thin lips as he looked at her, and as his eyes wandered across her body, his smile only widened.

For a moment silence filled the air as each man's eyes were turned towards Cassandra, and her eyes were turned towards Agamemnon. But the silence was soon broken when Agamemnon rose from the throne he had claimed and he walked towards Cassandra, which caused more whispering to begin between the other kings.

"What a beautiful creature you are," said Agamemnon, his voice low, as he circled Cassandra. He then stopped and grasped her chin in his hand and examined her face. "One could ignore the tales of your madness when they looked at your beauty."

A shiver of disgust rippled down Cassandra's spine as she was forced to stare into the dark pits that were Agamemnon's eyes. She looked at him with more disgust than she could ever remember feeling, and wished that she had not been found by him in the temple of Athena, and that instead she had been granted death.

Agamemnon released his grip on Cassandra, yet his eyes lingered on her for a moment before he snapped his fingers once more. He turned to see his guard beside him, waiting for instruction.

"Take Neoptolemus down to the ships, _now_," said Agamemnon and he looked at the son of Achilles as he spoke. "He may choose which ever woman he wishes as a token of my gratitude."

The guard nodded once again and bowed in front of Agamemnon before walking over to Neoptolemus and asking him to follow him.

Neoptolemus shook his head slowly and looked at Agamemnon in disbelief. "I don't want some woman as a token of your _gratitude!_ I didn't kill Priam for _you_; I did not fight for you!"

"Forgive me," said Agamemnon and he could not help but reveal a slight smile, "I should have realised that you killed only for your father, how foolish I was."

Neoptolemus gritted his teeth in anger but said nothing; instead he turned and began to follow Agamemnon's guard when a voice made him grind to a halt.

"Stop!" shouted Cassandra and she turned to look at Neoptolemus. Her eyes were filled with tears because she had only realised who he was and knew what he was going to do. She walked towards him but Agamemnon grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

"Don't you dare speak unless I allow you to!" snarled Agamemnon and he glared into Cassandra's eyes with fury spreading across his face. "You are no longer a Princess of Troy, _you are_ my slave!"

Neoptolemus looked at Cassandra with a puzzled expression across his face. He was curious as to why she had wished to stop him, but as he looked at her all he saw was Priam staring back at him and it only reminded him of what he had to do.

Without saying another word, Neoptolemus left the hall and just as the doors had closed behind him, Agamemnon called for another guard.

"Take her to one of the chambers," Agamemnon ordered and his eyes glanced towards Cassandra for a moment, "and guard it. I shall be along shortly."

The guard said nothing but only bowed in front of his king and then grabbed Cassandra by her arm and took her to the nearest chamber. He forced her into it and then left her alone and guarded the chamber from outside.

As soon as Cassandra was alone she burst into a fit of tears and sank down to the floor. She tried to silence her cries by covering her mouth with her hand, but she could no longer contain the pain that wished to flood from her.

Never before had Cassandra hated the gods as much as she did now, not even when she was raped. She had once loved, honoured and respected the mighty gods, but now she felt nothing but hate towards them.

Even after Hector had been killed, Cassandra had continued to love them because she had believed it was the Greeks who had caused her family such pain. She had continued to seek comfort from them as she thought they were the only ones who understood them, and now she felt betrayed because she realised that it was the gods who led the Greeks to act the way they had.

The tears that washed over Cassandra's face soon ceased as she gained control of her pain. She locked away her grief and was determined to hide from it forever now because she needed to be strong.

After wiping her bloodshot eyes, Cassandra stood up from the floor and sat in the nearest chair. She looked around the room and realised she was in one of the guest chambers and then she looked across to the bed.

Her heart stopped for a moment when she noticed the bed sitting boldly at the opposite side of the room. She knew that she would soon be forced to lie upon it when Agamemnon came to seek his pleasure from her, and she closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and looking away from it.

* * *

**A/N:** After raping Cassandra, it was said that Ajax was going to be punished for it but the Greek kings did not decide upon one. When sailing home, however, Ajax drowned as a result of insulting the gods. I just wanted to mention that as I don't think I'll add it in the story. Thank you for all of the reviews :) 

**Queen Arwen –** Isn't angst great, I don't think there is enough of it in the myth ;) I'm glad you like how I'm following the myth, thank you. Thank you for the review too :)

**Kal's Gal –** I'm glad you continue to like this, despite the tragedies in it :) Thank you for the review!

**Caz-jket –** Thank you for the review! I'm glad you find the rating ok, and thanks for letting me know. I'm glad you liked the last chapter too, thank you :)

**Priestess of the Myrmidon –** I'm glad you liked the last chapter and that you're enjoying my fast updates, thank you :) I knew you would like Helen's fate, lol! Thank you for the review!

**Meitsi –** Andromache's child, Astyanax, has already been killed. He was killed in chapter 63. I'm glad you want to continue reading this, thank you and thank you for the review :)

**Lily –** That's great that you keep learning new things from reading this :) There is a lot of drama in this at the moment and there will be even more to come. Thank you for the review!


	66. Chapter 66

The sun had escaped from behind the dark clouds and was now flooding its glorious light onto the city of Troy. The walls shimmered beautifully and they appeared like gold once more. The sea sparkled like glitter, which made it appear even more inviting in the sweltering heat, and the plain was no longer filled with the sounds of battle. Troy suddenly seemed perfect, idyllic, yet when you looked closer and saw the destruction and the horrors of the night within each person's eyes, you could see it was not perfect.

Those who had survived the night were now forced to watch their possessions loaded onto the Greek ships. Their hearts were filled with fear because they knew that soon, soon they would also be loaded onto the ships like mere items.

The remaining Trojans had lost their identities, they were no longer considered as human or even worth respect. Instead they were addressed cruelly, with names such as _slave_ or _whore_, and they knew that this would be their lives now. They would be slaves, slaves to Greeks who had torn apart their own world in Troy.

The laughter of Greeks rung in Andromache's ears and she clenched her fists in anger. She could no longer bear to hear their joy, not when she had lost everything because of them.

For a moment she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply in attempts to gain control of her anger, but as she opened her eyes once more she saw something that made her blood boil even more.

Dismounting a dark chestnut coloured stallion was Helen. She seemed perfectly at ease as she skillfully dismounted her horse and patted its mane while she waited for Menelaus to finish speaking with one of his men. It was only when Helen caught sight of Hecuba, Polyxena and Andromache, as she looked at the ships, that her content expression suddenly vanished.

Andromache felt sickness race up her throat when she saw Helen, but she quickly forced it back down into the pit of her stomach, which caused a burning taste to erupt within her mouth. She could feel her whole body tense and her lungs constrict when she saw Helen, but it was not only seeing the woman who had played a part in her pain that sickened her.

"She was riding Hector's horse," Andromache croaked. "She was riding Lampos."

Hecuba raised her head at the sound Andromache's words and looked to what had gained her daughter-in-law's attention. She gasped aloud when she saw Helen and looked back at Andromache quickly, wary of what she might do.

Lampos, sired by Hector's older horse Helenus, had been the horse Hector had used in battle. He had loved that horse more than any other because it had been bred by two of the greatest horses he had ever ridden. He would let no one else ride it, not even Andromache, and now Helen had rode it, after all she had done.

Andromache rose from the stone she had sat on and she began to walk towards Helen. Her wrists were still bound, but that did not prevent her from walking, unlike Hecuba and Polyxena, whose wrists and ankles were bound. They called for Andromache to come back before the guards returned from feasting in their tent, but she ignored them.

There were Greeks everywhere, but no one paid any attention to Andromache as she headed towards Helen. Each step she took brought her closer to Helen and she began to walk faster until she was almost running.

Helen quickly glanced across to Menelaus when she saw Andromache head towards her, but she saw that he was engrossed in conversation with one his men and she knew that she would have to speak to Andromache. She knew she owed that right to Andromache, especially after all that had happened.

Suddenly, however, Menelaus turned to Helen to ask her something when he saw Andromache running towards his wife. He knew who Andromache was, he had seen her the night before, just after her son was killed, and quickly looked back to Helen once more before running towards Andromache.

Andromache had almost reached Helen, her blood racing within her veins at the thought of inflicting pain upon the woman who had caused her more sorrow than she could even begin to speak of, when she was suddenly pulled back by Menelaus.

Menelaus grabbed Andromache around her waist and inwardly cursed the guards who had not bound her ankles together because she suddenly kicked his knee and he almost stumbled to the ground. He soon managed to gain control over her, however, and he felt her heart beating ferociously, with the desire for revenge, as she tried to restrain her.

"Let her go," said Helen, her voice high and shaking somewhat. She looked into the eyes of Menelaus to show she was leaving no room for question, and sighed quietly when she saw him suddenly release Andromache.

Andromache did not run to Helen though, instead she remained where she was. She had never felt such rage and anger when she saw Helen dismount Lampos, she had never felt her blood turn sour and race angrily through her veins, and she had never wanted to inflict pain on someone so much until then.

"Go to your tent," Helen said to Menelaus, "I will come shortly."

Menelaus opened his mouth to protest but the look on Helen's face showed that she would not be persuaded out of her decision. He turned away and led both his horse, and the horse Helen had ridden, to his tent and gave them to one of his guards before stepping inside.

"You already have him trained well," remarked Andromache and sneered, not caring how low she stooped to verbally attack Helen.

"I understand how you must be feeling," said Helen, the tone of her voice rising when she saw Andromache's guards leave the feasting tent. "We can talk, but let us talk in private."

"You don't understand how I feel!" shrieked Andromache, angered that Helen could say such a thing. "You _chose_ to leave your child! I did not choose for my child to be killed, Helen."

"I know you didn't," said Helen weakly, and she glanced nervously at the guards who now questioned Hecuba and Polyxena.

"I have lost everything," said Andromache, her voice lowering, "and yet you have caused a war, dishonoured your husband, abandoned your child … and _still_ you have a husband and child to go back to." She paused for a moment and then continued. "What have I done that is so terrible that I must lose my family in Thebe, Hector, and my son? Why am I cursed?"

Helen said nothing because she could find no words to say. She knew she could not end Andromache's pain and felt foolish to ever think she could compare her pain to hers. She walked forward and tried to comfort Andromache but Andromache stepped back.

"I'm sorry," said Helen, "I wish there was something I could do … I wish I could have stopped what has happened."

"It doesn't matter anymore," said Andromache quietly and she felt tears seep into her eyes; "nothing matters anymore."

The guards suddenly turned away from Hecuba and Polyxena and turned to see Helen. They were alarmed to see Helen and Andromache together and began to quickly walk to where the women stood.

"I'm so sorry, Queen Helen," said one of the guards, when he reached Helen, "we didn't think she would dare leave with so many Greeks around."

"Do not apologise," said Helen sternly. Her eyes glanced fleetingly at Andromache and then glared back at the guards. "I wished to speak to this woman, do not punish her on account of me."

"Of course not, Queen Helen," said the guard and he bowed in front of her.

Andromache smirked slightly at how well Helen had retained her title as Queen of Sparta. She looked at Helen again and was slightly surprised at how more confident she appeared, so much more confident now than she ever had been in Troy.

"You loved him, didn't you?" asked Andromache, suddenly. She didn't care that the guards were around her, about to take her away again, all she wanted to know if everything that had happened was worth something.

For a moment Helen was silent, but she looked into Andromache's eyes and understood what she meant. "With all my heart."

Andromache nodded, but said no more. She knew that Helen's love for Paris could never truly justify the war or the loss of her husband and child, but she had needed to know that the downfall of Troy had been worth something, even if it was the love Helen had for Paris.

Silently, the guards took Andromache by her arms and led her back to where Polyxena and Hecuba sat. They then returned to their own, smaller fire, a few feet away and began to talk in low whispers.

Andromache sat down on the stone once more and looked into the fire, its flame dancing in her eyes. She made no attempt to speak, even though Hecuba and Polyxena questioned her on what Helen had said, and allowed the memories of past times to absorb her thoughts.

* * *

The sun beamed down on Neoptolemus appraisingly as he rode down to the ships on his father's chariot. He passed numerous corpses, and women and children chained together, but instead of ignoring these horrible sights, he looked at them. 

Neoptolemus felt no guilt as he looked upon them though, he felt numb to all emotion. The only thing that passed through his mind was of what he had to do, it was the only thing that kept him focused and away from the thoughts of the murders he had committed.

Even though he knew he could never be liked his father, Neoptolemus was still intent upon finishing what he had begun. He would honour his father one last time by revenging his death on those that had caused it, but after that he would try to forget everything he had done and try to move on.

Neoptolemus felt that revenging his father's death was compensation for not being more like him. He had always tried to impress and be like his father, and he had felt prepared to take life, just like his father had, but he found he could not. He would only kill one last time, one more to make him free of the burden of his father's memory.

The waves were crashing against the shore when Neoptolemus finally reached the ships. He could see the tide was beginning to creep upon them and knew that they would soon have to leave, that they would soon leave Troy.

He stepped off his chariot, after steadying his horse, and was immediately greeted by a young man, presumably one of Agamemnon's men as he wore a Mycenae breastplate.

"King Agamemnon has ordered for me to allow you to choose whichever woman you like," said the man, panting for breath. "You are to choose between the royal women of Troy, as a token of my king's gratitude. Shall I take you to them, my lord?" He then gestured towards the weakening fire where Hecuba, Andromache and Polyxena sat, along with other noble women.

Neoptolemus, although unconcerned over choosing a woman as his prize, looked to where the man indicated. His eyes wandered across the women quickly as he had more pressing matters to attend to, but then he suddenly came to an old woman who was speaking and he felt as if a knife had slashed at his insides when he heard her words.

"Put your hands closer to the fire, Polyxena," ordered Hecuba, the woman Neoptolemus saw, "you're freezing."

It was not because the wind chilled her flesh that Polyxena was cold, but because she suddenly felt as if she was seeing death, _her _death. She looked across the fire, past the guards and to a man she had never seen before, yet knew.

Polyxena glared into the man's eyes, the eyes she thought she had once loved because they were the eyes of Achilles, although she knew this man was not Achilles, it was his son.

Neoptolemus simply stared at Polyxena for a few moments. He had wanted to see her, to find her, but now that he saw her, he felt like he had frozen and that he had lost all thought of what to do.

"What is her name?" asked Neoptolemus and he subtly pointed to Polyxena, even though he already knew her name and who she was.

The man looked at Neoptolemus for a moment, thinking that he had chosen a woman to be his, and then looked to where he pointed. His eyes caught sight of Polyxena and he smiled at who he thought was Neoptolemus's choice, and then turned to face him. "I believe she is Polyxena, a daughter of King Priam. Is she who you have chosen?"

Neoptolemus slowly shook his head. "No, I must speak to Odysseus." Then, without another word, Neoptolemus headed towards the tent where Odysseus was.

Silently, Neoptolemus entered Odysseus's unguarded tent. His eyes winced as he entered because it was full of darkness, except for three small lanterns in separate areas of the tent. He closed the flaps of the tent behind him and then turned to see Odysseus sitting on a wooden chair, glaring into the light of one of the lanterns.

"What do you want?" Odysseus asked, his voice void of all emotion. He did not look up at Neoptolemus; instead he continued to stare into the small flame.

"I came to ask you for your help," said Neoptolemus, his voice shivering with nerves. He looked at Odysseus, waiting for him to reply, but when he did not he decided to continue. "I have seen … I saw … Pol- … Polyxena."

Odysseus was silent for a moment and then looked to Neoptolemus. He was shocked to see that there were tears within Neoptolemus's eyes.

"I have to honour my father," said Neoptolemus, his grief freely swimming into his eyes, but he did not release a single tear. He paused and looked up to the roof of the tent for a brief moment while he tried to compose himself, and then he spoke again. "My father tried to do his best for me … and now I have to honour him in return…,"

Odysseus slowly rose to his feet and walked towards Neoptolemus. "Do not shed more blood because of your father; if you do then you'll never be rid of the guilt."

Neoptolemus looked at Odysseus with a slightly confused expression. He had not heard that Odysseus had killed the young Prince Astyanax, and so did not realise that Odysseus spoke of what he wished he had done, and of his own guilt.

"My father was your friend," stuttered Neoptolemus. He inhaled deeply and tried to regain control of his emotions. He wanted Odysseus to agree to help him because he needed someone to tell him that what he had to do was acceptable, that it was the only right thing to do. He needed someone to tell him that because he was beginning to doubt it himself.

Odysseus was silent and looked firmly at Neoptolemus. He could understand the conflict of emotions the young man felt because he too had felt them, just before he had killed Astyanax. He was now haunted by the horror of what he had done and wouldn't wish anyone to be so plagued by guilt, but as he continued to look at Neoptolemus he saw that the man would not listen to reason.

"I will help you," said Odysseus slowly.

* * *

**A/N:** I apologise for the amount of time it has taken me to update. I've been furiously working on chapters in one whole document because I couldn't decide where to separate them into individual chapters until I had actually finished them, hence the reason I've taken a long time to update. I've _almost_ finished the last chapter to this story, and I want to continue working on it until I'm done, so because of this I'm not replying individually to reviews because I really want to get on while I have time. 

Thank you, however, to everyone that reviewed. I appreciate every single review, so thank you!


	67. Chapter 67

As the day grew on, the women around the fire were chosen by men. The noble women were taken one by one and most went on to live lives of servitude, but some would become concubines to the man that had taken them. They all shared one thing, however, and that was that they were all destined to die alone, alone with no one left to love or care for them.

There were still three royal women, however, sitting around the fire, but they were not left because they were unwanted. The few men who had been granted such a token of gratitude, by being offered one of the prized women, had still not chosen or taken their gifts.

As men had not come for them yet, the royal women were forced to remain around the fire, even though they had grown to hate the fire because the day had grown considerably hotter.

The women were so altered in appearance that they looked little better than slaves in a market. Their thin night robes were soaking with sweat and they didn't dare move because they couldn't bear to feel the wet cloth against their skin. Their hair had fallen from their intricate styles and now tumbled freely down their backs, and their feet, which had once been decorated with jewels, were now covered with dirt.

Hecuba looked worse than death and yet she still breathed. She felt sickened by the thought of someone other than Priam owning her, she couldn't bear the thought of becoming a slave or concubine to a Greek and she was determined to never become one.

Unlike her mother, Polyxena was not sickened by the thought of becoming a slave or even a concubine because she knew that she would become neither. She had seen what would happen to her in Achilles's eyes, she had even felt coldness begin to sweep across her when she saw Neoptolemus.

It was only Andromache who continued to remain silent while Polyxena and Hecuba spoke, and she had not spoken since seeing Helen. She felt so consumed with grief and hate that she was afraid to speak in case she allowed some of her emotions to escape, and she couldn't bear the thought of the Greeks seeing her pain.

However, it was not only the Greeks who Andromache hated, it was also the gods. She hated and cursed them both, hating both the gods and the Greeks passionately. She couldn't even begin to imagine what she could have done to result in being punished so cruelly by the gods, and so she damned them too.

At the sound of raised voices, Andromache suddenly raised her head. She had heard nothing but crying and laughter for hours, and so she was surprised to see any Greek angered when they had won such a victorious battle.

The voices were of Neoptolemus and Agamemnon's man, and Andromache looked at them curiously. She had seen Neoptolemus briefly, when he first arrived at the camps, but she didn't know who he was.

Feeling Andromache's eyes on his face, Neoptolemus suddenly turned his head slightly to look at her. He did not allow his eyes to wander across to Polyxena; instead he continued to look at Andromache for a moment.

"You must choose which woman you would like to have," persisted Agamemnon's man, who had begun pestering Neoptolemus as soon as he left Odysseus's tent, only a moment ago. "King Agamemnon will soon return to the ships and then we will be leaving these shores. You must choose!"

Neoptolemus nodded slowly, though he looked towards Andromache. He turned his head towards Agamemnon's man and nodded again. "Yes, you're right."

"You have chosen, then?" asked Agamemnon's man, eagerly.

"Yes," said Neoptolemus slowly. He pointed towards Andromache, although he did not look at her.

A smile widened across the face of Agamemnon's man and he turned to look at Neoptolemus once more after looking at Andromache. "You have made a wise choice, Neoptolemus. She is Princess Andromache, Hector's widow. She would have been Queen of Troy one day if Hector hadn't have died."

Neoptolemus slowly turned his head towards Andromache once more and was shocked to see her horrified expression. He assumed she had realised that he had chosen her to be his; it didn't even cross his mind that she had suddenly realised who he was.

"Take her to my tent," said Neoptolemus, his voice somewhat lower. "Make sure she is washed and dressed properly for the journey home."

Agamemnon's man nodded obediently. "Will you wish to spend _time_ with the woman before we leave?"

Neoptolemus knew what the man implied, and even he knew he had the rights to bed Andromache if he pleased, but he shook his head. "No."

For a moment Agamemnon's man was silent as he was somewhat shocked at Neoptolemus's firm answer, but when he saw Neoptolemus turn to leave, he grew curious again. "Where are you going, my lord? King Agamemnon could return at any moment!"

"I'm going to my father's grave," Neoptolemus called back as he began to walk away from the man.

A stunned look continued to hover over Andromache's face as she watched Neoptolemus walk away. She could feel her breath quickening and almost felt faint at the knowledge of who Neoptolemus was.

She had watched Neoptolemus and Agamemnon's man speak together, although she had heard little of what they spoke of and could not understand what she had heard. She only knew that she had heard Neoptolemus addressed by his name, and it sickened her to think that she had seen the son of the man who had killed her husband.

After entering a tent for a few moments, Agamemnon's man now walked towards Andromache, followed by a woman who appeared to be the same age as Andromache. She had golden hair that flowed down her back like water and her features and attire suggested that she was not a Trojan.

"You have been chosen by Neoptolemus, Andromache," said the man and a small smile played across his lips as he spoke. "You will sail with him to Greece and he will be your master."

Hecuba and Polyxena suddenly raised their heads and glared towards Agamemnon's man before looking to Andromache.

"What nonsense is this?" snarled Hecuba, suddenly regaining her queenly manner. She even surprised herself that her queenly ways had not vanished along with her city.

Agamemnon's man looked down to Hecuba as if she were little better than a dog. He surveyed her filthy robe before speaking. "It looks like it has escaped you notice, _Queen_ Hecuba, but you are now a slave, you all are."

He then turned towards Andromache once more. "This is Briseis," and he gestured towards the golden haired woman, "she will take you to Neoptolemus's tent and prepare you for the journey."

At the sound of the word '_journey_', Andromache felt her heart stop. She had only briefly allowed the thought of leaving Troy to enter her mind, and now that she was forced to acknowledge that thought, she felt sick.

In her lifetime, Andromache had known no other places other than Thebe and Troy. They were the only places she had ever called home, the only places that held the ones she loved, and now both were destroyed. She couldn't even comprehend the thought of living anywhere else but Troy because, despite all that had happened, she still loved it more than she could even describe because it had been Hector's home too.

"You may say your goodbyes," said Agamemnon's man and he looked down upon Andromache's sudden pale face. He then turned to Briseis and quietly spoke with her before leaving and heading towards a tent guarded by men with Mycenae breastplates.

"There must be something we can do," said Hecuba sadly and she felt tears gather once more in her eyes. "We are royalty … we are not slaves!"

Briseis looked at Hecuba pitifully for a moment because she could understand how the woman felt. Like Hecuba, Briseis had also been taken from her homeland and forced to be with a man she did not love, a man who had killed her husband.

"There is nothing to be done," said Briseis, and she smiled kindly when Hecuba looked at her in surprise. "Even royal women must face the hardship when a city is sacked." She sighed and then knelt down in front of Hecuba. "Your daughter-in-law will not be harmed, Queen Hecuba."

Hecuba was surprised to be addressed by her old title and looked at Briseis curiously. "You were not born into slavery, were you?"

"No," said Briseis, and her smile faded. She rose to her feet and was silent for a moment while she thought over the life she had once had. "I was the Queen of Mynes. Achilles sacked my city and killed my husband, he then brought me here as his concubine."

At the sound of Achilles's name, Polyxena suddenly looked away from Andromache. She raised her eyes to look at Briseis curiously. "What has become of you now, now that Achilles is dead?"

Briseis looked at Polyxena for a moment without speaking. She knew who the woman was and of her involvement with Achilles, but felt no anger towards Polyxena.

"I am now a slave of Neoptolemus," she finally said, "although I shall not remain one for long. He has decided to grant me freedom and I will stay here, in a small town on Mount Ida." She noticed the curious glance of Andromache now and added: "I believe Neoptolemus had no desire for me to be his slave, I think he even hates the sight of me."

Silence followed Briseis's words until she turned towards Andromache and spoke once more. "You may have a few moments to say goodbye, and then I will take you to Neoptolemus's tent."

Hecuba, unable to rise to her feet as her ankles remained tied together with rope, leaned across to Andromache. She felt tears fall from her face when she kissed her daughter-in-law's cheek.

"I love you like a daughter," whispered Hecuba when she pulled away from Andromache. "I had never seen my son happier than when you came into his world, and for that I thank you." She inhaled deeply and then continued. "I am sorry, Andromache, for what has happened. I wish I could have saved Astyanax and Hector, I wish I could have stopped…"

"There is nothing you could have done," said Andromache, her voice even lower than Hecuba's. "I will never forget your kindness, nor will I forget your love." She paused for a moment and wiped away a tear that had tried to flee down her face. "Take care, Hecuba. My thoughts and prayers are with you."

After a few moments Hecuba turned away and dried her eyes while Andromache spoke with Polyxena.

"You have been a wonderful sister," said Andromache and she could feel her voice begin to waver, "and I could not have asked for a greater friend." She was silent for a moment, considering whether to continue or not, but she finally decided to go on. "Do not blame yourself for the Greeks winning, Polyxena. The Greeks would have won, regardless as to whether Achilles died or not, it was destined to be."

Polyxena nodded slightly. She could feel tears rush down her face but did not try to stop them, despite not wanting to show her grief, because she couldn't control them anymore. She quickly said her goodbyes to Andromache and then wiped away her tears.

Andromache slowly rose to her feet, her wrists still bound together. She looked at Hecuba and Polyxena one last time before following Briseis as she led the way to Neoptolemus's tent.

Only moments after Andromache had left and headed towards Neoptolemus's tent, Odysseus left his tent. His appearance was shocking, even to his men who had seen him in almost every possible situation. His eyes were bloodshot and redness surrounded them, giving the appearance that he had been crying.

No one mentioned Odysseus's state to him, although many gasped when they saw the state of their king. They silenced their whispers when Odysseus passed them, however, and returned to their duties.

Odysseus's guilt was beginning to take a hold of him, which was the reason for his startling appearance. It was not only the guilt of killing Astyanax that tormented him now, it was the guilt of every innocent person he had killed the night before.

Whenever Odysseus had begun to feel guilt for the lives he had taken, he would always be able to justify their deaths because he knew that if he hadn't taken them, then someone would take the lives of his people instead. Now, however, Odysseus knew that this method would not work for his guilt because he had no reason to kill innocent Trojans, other an oath he had sworn to years ago, and the fear of Agamemnon attacking his country if he refused to fight.

He weaved in between the Greeks who continued to load items onto the ships, and between the carts full of mainly women and children who would be taken across the sea to Greece and sold. He ignored these sights and stared straight ahead, straight across to a small fire that was almost out.

One of the men guarding Hecuba and Polyxena looked up when he saw Odysseus walk towards them. He paused in his conversation to one of his friends and placed his goblet down onto the sand and stood up.

"What brings you here, King Odysseus?" asked the man as he walked towards Odysseus. He tried to sound cheerful, but his voice betrayed how unnerved he was at seeing the state of Odysseus. "Is there anything I may do to help you?"

"No," said Odysseus quietly and he shook his head slightly. He looked down to the floor because he could feel the eyes of Polyxena, on his face. "I … have come for Polyxena; I am to take her to Neoptolemus."

"I thought Neoptolemus has already chosen Andromache, my lord," said the guard, a note of confusion in his voice. He looked back to Hecuba and Polyxena to make sure he was correct in his thoughts and then looked back to Odysseus.

Hecuba also looked at Odysseus now, she had heard his name but she had been absorbed in watching Andromache leave until now. She had heard why Odysseus had come and placed her hands over her daughter's.

"He has," answered Odysseus, finding it grueling to even speak because he could not escape the images that swirled through his mind, the images of those he had killed in the night. "But … but Neoptolemus," began Odysseus and then he paused for a moment and gathered the little strength he had left, "I have to take Polyxena to Neoptolemus, you have no right to question my actions."

"Of course not, my lord," said the guard, somewhat startled. "I am sorry, my king, I meant no offence. You may take Polyxena, if you wish." He then walked over to Polyxena and used his knife to cut the rope at her ankles.

"Where are you taking her?" asked Hecuba, her voice hoarse. She looked up to Polyxena and slowly shook her head when she saw the look in her daughter's eyes. She could almost hear Polyxena telling her she would be safe now, she would be with her father and brothers, and yet Polyxena's mouth did not move.

Odysseus said nothing and reached out to take Polyxena's arm when she suddenly stepped away from him. She looked at Odysseus firmly for a moment and then knelt down in front of her mother.

"Do you know what …," began Hecuba, but she could not finish her sentence because she felt tears begin to trickle down her face.

"I have known what is going to happen to me for a long time," said Polyxena and she gently wiped away her mother's tears, as best she could with her hands bound. "I could never have lived with the name "slave", you know that mother. I was born a princess, and I thank you for the wonderful life you allowed me to lead." She smiled for brief second but then her smile faded and she continued in a low whisper. "I allowed Achilles to believe I loved him, for that alone I should be sentenced to death."

"No!" said Hecuba firmly, although her voice was quiet, and she stared into her daughter's eyes sternly. "It was Achilles who deserved to be killed. You don't deserve death because he thought you loved him, that was his foolishness, not yours."

"If I live now, mother," said Polyxena and she felt her voice begin to waver, "then I will forever be plagued with guilt. I played a part in Achilles's death, and if I had married him then perhaps Troy would still be standing!" She had allowed her voice to rise as she finished her words and now paused, wishing to gain control of her emotions. "I cannot bear to live with the thought that I … that I could have prevented the destruction of our home."

"You could not have prevented the Greeks winning," insisted Hecuba. She then looked up to Odysseus and saw him staring at her; she then looked down to her daughter once more. "You could offer yourself to Odysseus; you are a princess and would be worth so much more than a slave in any household. You could live and perhaps be granted freedom someday."

Polyxena smiled sadly at her mother's words because she knew that Odysseus would never accept her and if he did, she would never be granted freedom from servitude because she was now a slave. She gently stroked her mother's hands and looked up to her mother.

"You will forever be in my heart, mother," she finally said, "even when I go into the next world." She then rose to her feet and kissed her mother's forehead and began to walk away with Odysseus.

"Polyxena!" cried Hecuba as she was left on the log by the fire. She smiled sadly when she saw her daughter look back at her and whispered: "I love you."

Polyxena smiled, reading her mother's lips. She then allowed Odysseus to take her arm once more and lead her towards Achilles's grave.

Hecuba collapsed into a fit of tears when she watched her daughter walk away and held her head in her hands. She had never felt more powerless than when she allowed her daughter to walk to her death.

On the grave of Achilles, where his and Patroclus's ashes had been mixed together in a golden urn before they would eventually be taken to the White Island, is where Polyxena was killed by Neoptolemus.

She was stabbed by Achilles's son, yet she neither showed nor expressed fear, which granted her the respect of the Greek warriors who saw her killed. She had expected death ever since she had seen it within Achilles's eyes, and had gradually begun to accept it until she no longer feared her destiny.

The Princess of Troy fell down onto the sand after Neoptolemus had delivered his first deadly cut, and then her blood flowed from her wound and onto the grave of Achilles which had yearned for her blood.

She was then left before Odysseus, who had watched the death of the brave princess, ordered his men to give her the proper funeral rites. He soon left his men to build a small pyre for her, and returned to his tent after speaking with one of his officials.

* * *

After being taken to the tent of Neoptolemus by Briseis, Andromache was washed and dressed by two other slaves who had come from neighboring lands, and Briseis left her. Her hair was plaited down her back and she was dressed in a thick robe that could face the harshness of the journey to Greece. 

She was allowed to wash her own face, after she had requested to do so, and was able to see her reflection in the basin of water. She had never seen herself so altered in appearance, not even when she was pregnant with Astyanax and her face had swelled.

There was no longer any trace of happiness in her eyes, and the wild, determined spirit that had once occupied her fair eyes had now disappeared. She looked like a hollow shell, a shell that held no emotion or feeling.

As Andromache looked at her reflection before handing the basin to one of the girls near her, she saw that she looked like a typical slave. Her attire was made to last, instead of being made to make her look beautiful, like her old robes. And her face held the same blankness that she had seen other slaves wear.

The flaps of the tent suddenly opened and Neoptolemus entered. His head had been bowed until he had entered, but now he looked up and across to Andromache because he could feel her eyes glaring on his face.

Andromache looked at Neoptolemus, her eyes widening with fear when she saw the blood that was smeared across his breastplate. And she felt her heart begin to pound ferociously against her chest as she allowed her eyes to wander down to Neoptolemus's blood covered hands.

"Leave," ordered Neoptolemus, his voice somewhat hoarse. He glared at the slave girls and they quickly leapt from their feet, as did Andromache who assumed he meant for her to leave also, until he turned to look at her. "You can stay."

Andromache slowly sunk back down into her chair and watched as the slave girls left the tent. She was inwardly desperate to leave with them because she feared that Neoptolemus had wanted her to stay because he wanted to lay with her.

The thought of lying with a man other than Hector sickened and terrified Andromache. Not only did she consider it a betrayal of the love she and Hector had shared, but she also knew that after Hector, she could never love another man the way she had loved him and because of that she couldn't bear the thought of laying with anyone. She feared being forced to lay with a man she did not love, and she especially feared lying with a man she hated.

Neoptolemus walked over to a basin of water that sat on his chest. He quickly washed his bloody hands, and then his sweaty face before taking off his breastplate. He looked at Andromache once more before sitting down in a chair and pouring himself some wine.

The flaps to the tent opened once more and a soldier entered, he looked across to Andromache first and then looked to Neoptolemus. He slowly walked towards Neoptolemus and whispered: "King Odysseus has ordered for Polyxena's body to be burnt. Should we do something, my lord?"

Neoptolemus said nothing for a moment and looked to Andromache's sudden, pained expression. He then slowly turned his head to look back at the soldier and shook his head. "No, do nothing. Allow Odysseus to continue."

The soldier nodded and promptly left the tent, silently.

"Polyxena … Polyxena is dead?" stuttered Andromache, unwilling to think her friend could be dead when she had said goodbye to her not so long ago. She shook her head in denial and looked down to the floor so Neoptolemus would not see the tears that had begun to swim into her eyes.

"Yes," said Neoptolemus, and he deliberately avoided Andromache's eyes. He poured himself more wine and stood up; he placed his goblet down onto the chest and then walked towards the flaps of the tent. He was about to leave when Andromache spoke again:

"Did you kill Polyxena?" she asked, her voice shaking fervently because she dreaded the answer.

"Yes," said Neoptolemus. He did not move, instead he continued to face the flaps of the tent with his head bowed.

"Why?" cried Andromache and she felt a tear trickle down her face. She realised that it was not only the grief of hearing her sister-in-law was dead that now began to pour from her, it was the grief that she had bottled away since Hector had died.

"She made my father believe that she loved him," said Neoptolemus quietly because he was now too ashamed to proudly admit what he had done, "and she played a vital role in his death." He finally turned to look at Andromache and was so surprised to see tears gathering in his eyes that he could not speak for a moment.

"I will leave you to your grief," said Neoptolemus, unaware of what else to say as he was unnerved, and he turned to leave.

"My grief?" snarled Andromache and she walked towards Neoptolemus and stepped in front of him so he could see her eyes which were now rid of tears, but were instead glaring with anger. "My grief will never leave me! I will never be able to escape what has happened, especially not when I have to see you each day!"

Neoptolemus's eyes narrowed in anger when he heard Andromache's words towards him and he had a desire to slap her, but he clenched his fists at his side and left the tent, leaving Andromache.

Andromache inhaled deeply and clutched a hand to her chest. She slowly walked over to her chair and leaned on it as she quietly cried and admitted defeat to her overwhelming grief.

* * *

**A/N:** I've finished the story and will be putting up the last chapter in a few days, but for now here is this chapter. Also, thank you so much for the reviews for the last chapter :) 


	68. Chapter 68

An odd, eerie silence overcame Andromache when she left the tent of Neoptolemus. It was a silence that had grown so unusual to her that she shivered slightly. For years she had not heard such silence, such haunting silence, because the plain had always rung with the sounds of battle and the sounds of death.

Only a few cries and whispers disturbed the silence that hung over them all like the dark clouds that were beginning to hide the bright sun that hovered over Troy. The Trojans made no sound as they were forced onto the Greek ships, they did not even try to protest because all their hope had gone.

When Hector had been alive, the Trojan people had been filled with the hope that they would win the war against Greece, but when he died their hope slowly diminished and now it had become none-existent. The Trojans no longer held hope that they would be rescued because they had lost everything, including their own identities.

As the Trojan people were loaded onto the Greek ships, Andromache watched them for a moment as she was led to Neoptolemus's ship. She knew that she faced a life of servitude, just like them, and almost felt like laughing because only yesterday she had been a princess and today she was a slave.

Andromache continued to follow Eudorus, one of Achilles's myrmidons who had been ordered to take her to Neoptolemus's ship, but she kept her eyes on the people boarding the ships until another sight caught her attention.

Stepping onto a ship, with a large Mycenaen flag, was Cassandra. She slowly turned her head when she felt a pair of eyes on her face. She scanned the crowd beneath the ship for a moment and then saw Andromache and smiled sadly.

When Andromache first noticed Cassandra she felt a sudden wave of anger flow through her, but as she continued to look at the woman she had called her friend, she felt her body relax and the anger subside.

There was no use, Andromache realised, in harboring hate for Cassandra when she knew that the gods' will would have prevailed, even if Cassandra had told her what would happen. She wished that Cassandra had told her what would happen, she wished for it terribly, but she knew that nothing would ever bring Hector and Astyanax back to her now.

"Princess Andromache!" admonished Eudorus as he turned to see that Andromache was no longer following him and that she had stopped. He quickly walked up to her and then saw what had caught her attention and he was silent for a moment before speaking. "You have to come with me, we must board the ship."

Andromache saw King Agamemnon walk across to Cassandra and talk with her briefly, a disgusting smirk across his face, before walking away. It was then that Andromache realised that Cassandra was now under Agamemnon's care and she felt a tidal wave of sickness come over her when she thought that Cassandra now had to answer to him.

"I will follow you," said Andromache and she slowly turned her head to look at Eudorus. She studied his face for a moment and wondered why he addressed her as the princess she no longer was, and she finally assumed he did it out of guilt.

Eudorus nodded, but said no more. He looked back at Cassandra once more and then lowered his head and began to walk away.

For the last time, Andromache turned to look at Cassandra. She stared at her sister-in-law for a few moments and felt a fleet of emotions rush through her veins, but she ignored them all and allowed a faint smile to cross her lips.

It was such a weak, sad smile that no one else noticed it except for Cassandra, as she continued to look down at Andromache. She smiled back in return, although her smile was even weaker than Andromache's and her lips barely curled up.

Andromache then turned and began to walk away, but as she continued to walk away, she realised that she was not only walking away from Cassandra, but her whole life in Troy. She was leaving her life in Troy behind, and as she boarded the ship, she inhaled deeply because she could feel tears begin to creep into her eyes once more.

She slowly walked over to the edge of the ship and leant against the side as she looked out at the sea, the sea she had once sailed on with Hector. She closed her eyes for a moment to hold her tears at bay and then slowly opened them.

"You are to come with me to one of the rooms on the ship," said Eudorus as he stepped beside Andromache. He was silent for a moment, then continued. "Neoptolemus is allowing you a room to yourself, you will not be disturbed."

Andromache nodded, but said nothing. She then turned and followed Eudorus to her cabin, unaware that Neoptolemus watched her intently from the other side of the ship.

* * *

Time seemed to stand still as Cassandra continued to stand, leaning on the edge of the ship and looking out to where Andromache had stood, moments ago. She stared at the spot where her sister-in-law had stood, almost mesmerized by it. 

It was then that Cassandra suddenly felt her head ache with pain and her mind went blank. She stumbled over to the side of the ship that looked out across the sea and she gripped onto the side and coughed slightly.

When she straightened up and looked out to the sea she saw something that would haunt her for the rest of her days … her own death. She knew the gods would give her insight into what would become of her because they wished to torture her even more, or so she believed.

Across the sea, not visible to anyone other than herself, Cassandra could see her and Agamemnon returning to Mycenae. The picture was so clear and realistic that she felt as if she was watching a play being acted, a play of her death.

_The chariot carrying Menelaus and Cassandra away from the docks of Mycenae and to the palace was wrought by the finest gold. It was laden with beautiful flowers that had been plucked that morning, and the sun shined down blissfully on them._

_Agamemnon was as joyous as ever as his people left their homes to stand in the streets and greet him, he seemed even more content than he had been when he conquered over Troy. Nothing clouded his mind, not even the thought of seeing his wife, Clytemnestra, who he had not seen for over ten years. Even the memory of killing his own daughter, Iphigenia, did not eat away madly in his mind._

_When Agamemnon and Cassandra reached the palace, they saw a long path of red cloth rolled out from the entrance and to the feet of their chariot. Beacons burned brightly outside the palace doors and the smell of roasted pork wafted through the air to them._

_Clytemnestra, sister of Helen and wife to Agamemnon, waited patiently at the entrance hall of the palace. Her hair was neatly decorated with flowers twisting around her crown, and her light red robe flowed past her curves and down onto the ground like water._

_She smiled when she saw her husband, but her smile vanished for a slight moment when she saw Cassandra standing beside him. Her smile soon reappeared, and she slowly descended the steps from the entrance and began to walk towards her husband._

_A forced smile formed on Agamemnon's face when he saw Clytemnestra and he hesitated for a moment before finally stepping off the chariot and greeting his wife._

"_Welcome home, husband," said Clytemnestra as Agamemnon kissed her cheeks. Her voice was as smooth as silk, and she took Agamemnon's arm and began to walk with him towards the palace. _

_A blazing fire had erupted within Clytemnestra, years ago when she had learnt of what had become of her daughter. She had controlled the fire until now, until now when she saw her husband and planned to seek revenge for the pain and destruction he had caused._

_She could not believe that he could even dare to look at her after what he had done to their daughter, but she controlled the anger within her and forced herself to look content as she walked with her husband._

_As Clytemnestra and Agamemnon walked up the steps to the entrance of the palace, Clytemnestra turned to look at her husband._

"_I have missed you," she said softly, as she and her husband finally entered the palace. She paused for a moment and looked across to the hall where she saw a man lurking in the shadows, a man she knew._

"_And I have missed Iphigenia," she continued, and she turned to look at Agamemnon once more._

_A horrified expression began to spread across Agamemnon's face and he opened his mouth to speak but could find no words. _

"_Where is she?" Clytemnestra asked softly, and she looked down to the chariot where Cassandra was being helped off by two men. She then turned her head to look at her husband, her voice no longer hiding the pain and anger she felt. "Where is Iphigenia?"_

"_I …," began Agamemnon, but he could not finish his words. He took Clytemnestra's hand within his own and tried to speak but couldn't._

_Clytemnestra snatched her hand away from Agamemnon and her eyes narrowed in anger. "How can you even bear to look at me? You killed our daughter! You killed **my **daughter!"_

_Suddenly, Clytemnestra withdrew a knife from within her robe and the man that lurked in the shadows rushed towards Agamemnon and forced him to the ground. Clytemnestra looked down to Agamemnon and cried out in anger when she saw the look of fear in his eyes because she could clearly imagine the fear within her daughter's eyes when she had been killed._

_Clytemnestra was the first to stab her husband as she cried out in anger. She stabbed him continuously, madness suddenly overcoming her, until she heard a cry from the front of the chariot where Cassandra was._

_She watched as Cassandra was killed before her eyes by the men who had helped her off the chariot, and she watched as the woman fell down to the floor, her eyes still open even though she was dead._

_It was then that Clytemnestra rose to her feet, her robe soaking with the blood of her husband. She looked across to the man who had lurked in the shadows, and who stabbed Agamemnon one last time before looking at her._

"_Justice is done, Aegisthus," said Clytemnestra quietly, and she dropped her knife down to the ground. She then looked at the man, Aegisthus, and stared at him for a few moments. _

_He had been the one who had comforted her when her daughter's death had been confirmed. He had been the one who had stood by her side for years while Agamemnon was at war, and he was the one who she had grown to love._

"_Iphigenia will rest in peace now," said Aegisthus and he stepped over Agamemnon's body and across to Clytemnestra. He kissed her lips softly and then looked down to Agamemnon. "He deserved to be killed, my love."_

_Clytemnestra nodded, panting slightly, and rested her head on Aegisthus's chest. She raised her head after a moment, however, because she suddenly heard her daughter's laughter echo through the hall. She smiled because she knew her daughter was now at peace…_

Now, a gasp suddenly escaped Cassandra's lips as she sunk down against the side of the ship, her heart beating furiously. She clutched a hand to her chest as her panting gradually began to stop and she looked across to Agamemnon, as he talked with one of his men, with a horrified expression.

* * *

The dark clouds that had hovered over Troy were now beginning to disperse and the sun was blazing its light down upon the city once more. A few ships had begun to set sail across the wide, open sea and Odysseus watched them intently as they left. 

Thoughts whirled through Odysseus's mind when he stared at the ships as they began their journey to Greece. He imagined sailing across that sea, which he would soon do, and felt sick with nerves.

He was more than thrilled at the prospect of returning home, he had wished to return home every day since he had left, but he now realised that his life there may have changed.

Ten years had passed, ten long years. Odysseus was not so foolish as to think that every thing he had known in Ithaca would have remained the same, he knew time would not have stopped when he left, and he feared how much things would have changed.

When Odysseus left Ithaca, his son, Telemachus, had only been seven. He worried that his son would not recognise him after their years apart, and he feared seeing how much his son had grown. Telemachus had been only a young boy when Odysseus left, and he was anxious to learn how the years had altered his son and their relationship.

It was not only seeing his son that Odysseus feared, it was also seeing his wife. He had pined for her ever since he had left her and was more than thrilled at the prospect of seeing her once more, but he also knew that they could not go back to how things were.

The love Odysseus and his wife, Penelope, shared would not have changed but their lives would have. They had been separated for ten years and had learned how to live apart, but now they would need to learn how to live with one another once more.

"Odysseus," said a voice, and Odysseus turned to see who had spoken.

Menelaus stood a few feet behind Odysseus with Helen holding onto his arm. He looked perfectly content with the world, and a smile was spread across his lips.

"We are about to leave," said Menelaus and he slowly took his arm away from Helen and stepped closer to Odysseus. He then embraced Odysseus like a brother and held onto him for a few moments before stepping back. "I could not go without saying goodbye, and without saying thank you for your help."

Odysseus nodded and smiled weakly. "You do not have to thank me, Menelaus. It was an honour to fight by your side."

"Thank you," said Menelaus and he took Helen's arm once more. "I wish you a safe journey home, Odysseus." He turned to leave but Helen gently held him back and she stepped forward to speak with Odysseus.

"Thank you for helping me, Odysseus," said Helen and she smiled sadly. She kissed both of Odysseus's cheeks and then stepped back. "I do not know what would have become of me, had I not seen you in Troy that day."

"I pray that you return to Sparta safely," said Odysseus and he lightly kissed Helen's hand.

A soldier's voice suddenly rang out from aboard the nearest ship and Menelaus raised his head at the call. He then looked to Helen and took her arm within his once more, before facing Odysseus.

"We must go," said Menelaus, "our ship is ready." He and Helen then walked away and silently boarded their ship.

When Helen stepped onto the ship, she had a sudden flash back of the time when she had last been on a ship, the time when she had left Sparta for Troy with Paris. She smiled sadly at the memory and felt a single tear escape her eye and trickle down her soft cheek, as she stood looking out to the sea. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and deeply inhaled the sea air while she remembered that time when she had been so carefree and deeply in love with Paris.

Despite the fact that he may not have always loved her, Helen still loved Paris. He was still like an addiction that she could not kill, even though he was dead. She inhaled deeply once more and began to prepare herself for a life she had once left, and was now returning to.

The life she had escaped from waited for Helen across the sea and she dreaded the feeling of suffocation she had felt before leaving with Paris. She knew that if Paris had not come when he did, all those years ago, then she would have gone insane.

"You look pale," said Menelaus as he stepped beside Helen and took her hand within his own, "are you unwell?"

A forced smile suddenly formed across Helen's face and she hid the tears that were held within her eyes. She turned to look at Menelaus and suddenly saw the burning love he had for her, and her smile weakened slightly.

"I'm fine," she said, after a slight pause. She delved into Menelaus's eyes, and it was then that she realised that she couldn't break his heart like Paris had broken hers. She softly kissed his lips and whispered: "I love you."

Even though Helen was not in love with Menelaus, she felt determined to honour and respect him. He had, and would continue to love her unconditionally, and for that she would care for him in return.

_There would never be any great, passionate love shared between Menelaus and Helen, but they would go on to live lives of happiness with one another. Their lives would be filled with contentment until Menelaus died._

_The most beautiful woman in the entire world would meet her end, however, shortly after her husband's death. She would be driven away from Sparta and take refuge in Rhodes where Polyxo, a widow of a man who died in Troy, lived._

_While bathing one day, Helen would be crept up upon by servants of Polyxo. She would be hanged on a tree in revenge for the death of Polyxo's husband, and there she would be left until someone came across her beautiful face and she would be honoured with the appropriate funeral rites._

_The daughter of Zeus would pass on into the underworld and she would be happy with Menelaus once more, but never as happy as she had been with Paris in their few short years of bliss._

* * *

Shame filled Odysseus's stomach as he looked out across the sea and to Troy that stood in the distance. He had never felt such shame for what he had done when he saw the destroyed city, the city that had once been beautiful and magnificent. 

The memory of Troy would be etched upon every soldier's mind when they went to sleep each night and they would toss and turn with the guilt of what they had done. It was almost as if they were cursed to lead lives of regret, and many soldiers did believe they were cursed.

The horrors of the night, which had caused the downfall of Troy, would rarely be spoken of by those who were there because it brought back so many awful memories. It was a night no one wished to remember, yet it was also a night that people were forced to remember.

A sight soon caught Odysseus's eyes and he turned to see Hecuba being led into one of the rooms on the ship. He watched as she walked away and wished that he had not accepted such a _gift_ from Agamemnon because he knew that every time he looked at her, he would see Troy burning in his mind.

Odysseus had only decided to take Hecuba as Agamemnon's token of gratitude for fighting in the war because he did not wish to anger Agamemnon by refusing, and because he also hoped that he could allow Hecuba to live the rest of her days in peace.

He had already decided that Hecuba could be a handmaiden for his wife, which was not an ideal life for a woman who had once been a Queen, but it was the best he could offer her because she was now a slave.

As Hecuba walked away, she suddenly felt a pair of eyes on her face. She slowly turned her head and saw that Odysseus looked at her. She glared back at him and sneered when he lowered his eyes and turned to speak to one of his men.

Hecuba allowed herself to be forced into a small room on the ship and refused all food that was offered to her. She knew that she would not live to see another sun rise because she had already decided that she no longer wished to live without those she loved around her.

That night, when Hecuba was allowed out onto the deck for some air, she threw herself into the sea. She wanted to die; she wanted her pain and her grief to end because she could no longer bear the suffering.

The last Queen of Troy had lost everything she had ever loved and she no longer wished to see another day dawn when she knew that those she loved would never return to her. She drowned peacefully in the sea and her body was lost forever, but her soul returned to those she loved.

Odysseus and his men had tried to save Hecuba but they soon saw that her life was lost to the underworld. He silently prayed, not only for Hecuba but for all those that had been killed in Troy, that their lives be taken safely to the underworld.

He then returned to his own room and allowed sleep to take him, a rush of excitement flowing through his body because he thought that he would soon return home to Ithaca.

_It would not be for twenty years, when Odysseus would finally return home to his beloved wife and son. He would be thrown into dangerous paths on his journey home, and it would not be until years had passed that Odysseus would return to Ithaca._

* * *

The life Andromache had known in Troy was suddenly slipping away from her as she stood on the deck of Neoptolemus's ship, after being allowed some air, and watched the city fade from her view. She stood at the end of the ship and stared at the glittering walls of Troy, which despite all that had happened, still stood proudly in the distance. 

Andromache was leaving all she had known for years and now she was heading towards a life that was completely unknown to her. She was leaving a fallen city, yet she had never felt such a strong desire to be there as she did now.

The thought of leaving a life filled with riches did not scare Andromache; it was the thought of leaving the life she had known with Hector and with her son. Even after Hector had died, she still felt his presence around her because he _was Troy_.

Everything that the city of Troy had stood for, all of the values of Troy, were the same values that were within Hector. He was the walls that defended the city, he was the blanket of stars that glittered down into the sea, and he was the hero within every Trojan's heart.

Hector had been everywhere Andromache turned, and now she could already feel his absence. She inhaled the sea air deeply into her lungs and clenched her fists firmly on the edge of the ship when the wind raced around her.

The once Princess of Troy thought that there was no light at the end of the journey for her, she felt no hope in ever finding happiness again now Troy had fallen. However, her life would somehow go on.

_After returning to Greece, Neoptolemus would marry Menelaus's daughter, Hermione. He would not marry her out of love because he would not meet her until the day they married, and if he had not sworn to marry her when Menelaus proposed it, then he would never have married her._

_Neoptolemus would take Andromache as his concubine and he would treat her better than anyone, even more so than his own wife. He would honour and respect her, it even seemed that he loved her, but Andromache never showed such emotion in return._

_Andromache and Neoptolemus would go on to have four children together, but Hermione would have no children with him. She would be forced to watch Andromache's stomach swell with each child and she quickly began to hate her. Hermione would even go on to believe that Andromache had cursed her and made her barren, although no one, not even Neoptolemus, would believe her. _

_After years of neglect from her husband, Hermione would finally leave Neoptolemus and marry her father's nephew, Orestes. She would never see Neoptolemus or Andromache again, and would go on to have only one child with Orestes._

_Years would pass by and Neoptolemus would still keep Andromache as his lover, but the time came when he was called away to Delphi and he never returned because while there, he was killed by Orestes._

_After receiving the news of Neoptolemus's death, Andromache sailed away to Asia with one of her sons and there she lived the remainder of her life. _

All of this awaited Andromache as she now stood on the ship that left Troy, and yet she knew nothing of her fate. She sighed as the wind caused her hair to billow behind her, and suddenly felt arms wrap around her. She looked behind her but saw no one, and it was then that she finally smiled because Hector's spirit was with her once more…

**  
THE END**

* * *

**A/N:** After 68 chapters, this is finished. It's gone right from the beginning when Andromache and Hector met, and all the way to the fall of Troy.

I'm still a little shocked that I've finished because I've been working on this since the beginning of December 2004. I never, ever, expected to have so many chapters, or to have so many reviews!

When I first started this I expected I would get flamed and I didn't have any idea of what to do past the second chapter, but now I've completed 68 chapters and I'm finished.

I cannot thank my reviewers enough :) I appreciate and love every single review. I'm incredibly thankful to the reviewers, and to the readers who may not have reviewed, because without you I would not have been able to finish this.

I was really spurred on my by readers/reviewers, and it meant so much to me to have people review my work. I couldn't have imagined better feedback for this and I'm so glad that people enjoyed my story.

For the moment I am taking a break from writing fanfiction. I'm not sure how long this will last, but I just want to focus on other things for a while.

**Thank you so much, once again, to everyone that has read and/or reviewed this! I greatly appreciate it, thank you :)**


End file.
